#the fact that they spent at least 5 years LIVING there is something i still can't wrap my mind around
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Live in the moment
Batfamily x Youngest and Clumsiest Little Sister
"You were just walking… how did this even happen?"
Being the youngest member of Gotham’s greatest hero family was already a challenge, but being a complete disaster made things even harder. Yet, your brothers adored you—despite the fact that you constantly got yourself into trouble… or accidentally put yourself in danger.
---
1. Dick Grayson (Nightwing) - "My Reflexes Have Improved Thanks to You."
Dick spent years training to perfect his reflexes… but his real test was you.
Catching falling cups before they hit the ground? ✅
Grabbing you before you tumbled down the stairs? ✅
Stopping you from accidentally falling onto criminals? (Not so much…)
"You know what? One day, I'm going to tie a bunch of balloons to you. At least that way, you can’t fall."
But as much as you exasperated him, your energy reminded him of his younger self. And deep down, he had silently sworn to always protect you.
---
2. Jason Todd (Red Hood) - "Are You Getting Into Trouble on Purpose?"
Jason could handle Gotham’s deadliest criminals, but your clumsiness? That was a different kind of nightmare.
One time, you accidentally spilled coffee on a gang leader. You don’t remember what happened next because Jason whisked you out of there before things could go south.
"Look, kid, if you ever do something like that again… you will, won’t you? Ugh."
No matter how much he grumbled, he was always the first to come to your rescue.
---
3. Tim Drake (Red Robin) - "You Don’t Have to Try This Hard to Die in Gotham."
Tim analyzed your clumsiness and tried to come up with solutions. But no matter what he did, you still found ways to get into trouble.
A simple walk = Crashing into a streetlamp.
Drinking water = Somehow short-circuiting Gotham’s power grid. (They still don’t know how.)
"Alright, new plan: I’m making a drone that follows you 24/7. Just in case."
He tried to keep you safe, but in the end, he just accepted that you were a walking disaster.
---
4. Damian Wayne (Robin) - "How Are You Even Related to Us?"
Damian expected you to live up to the Wayne name. But your technique? A complete disaster.
One time, during training in the Batcave, you somehow managed to punch yourself in the face.
"Biologically, how is that even possible?!"
But if anyone outside the family tried to hurt you? They’d quickly learn that Damian’s sword was much faster than their escape.
"You might drive me insane, but no one else is allowed to hurt you."
---
5. Bruce Wayne (Batman) - "You Are Gotham’s Biggest Danger."
Bruce knew Gotham was dangerous… but keeping you safe was a whole different battle.
Whenever you tried to sneak out of the Batcave, he always caught you. And every time, he would take a deep breath before speaking.
"I’ve told you countless times. It’s dangerous out there."
"But I was just walking—"
"Yes. And last week, while 'just walking,' you nearly fell off a construction site!"
But no matter how many rules he put in place, his biggest fear was losing you. And in his own way, he always made sure you knew how much he cared.
---
Conclusion:
Being the clumsiest, most trouble-prone member of the Batfamily wasn’t easy… but no matter what, they all loved you. And every time you found yourself in danger, they were always there to save you.
#batfam x reader#batfam#yandere batfam x reader#batfamily x reader#yandere batfamily x reader#yandere x reader#batfamily#bruce wayne x reader#damian wayne x reader#yandere dc#yandere dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x reader#yandere jason todd x reader#jason todd x reader#yandere damian wayne x reader#tim drake x reader#yandere tim drake x reader#x reader#reader#batman x reader#red hood x reader
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♡ to build a home - LN 4 ♡
Summary: You're beginning to build a life with Lando. One of the steps you were excited for the most was building a home with him. So when it's time to finally start furnishing the house... let's just say we're glad everyone got to keep their fingers.
WC: 950
CW: fluff, two idiots in love trying to use their shared braincell..., not proofread
-=+=-
It’s finally time! A chapter in your life you were waiting for for so long. Not just building a life with your favorite person, but building a home with them too. You and Lando recently bought a home together and were excited to finally decorate it after having renovated it yourselves.
The two of you (mainly just you) spent ages on pinterest and various furniture websites, trying to put together an aesthetically pleasing home that could also make the environment feel homey and warm, something Lando had lived without for so long, well, at least until you joined his life. From the day you’d met, his life suddenly seemed brighter and warmer, like he’d been living in a plain, grey world prior.
After some conflicts and adjustments to the mood board, you both had settled on some furniture that you both loved. Some things were ordered to the house while the others were picked up in the store by you and Lando. Lando, of course, insisted on helping because 1. It could be some nice bonding time since he’s away a lot and 2. He’s a “Big strong man” who can help you carry everything… In other words, he was afraid another man would come to your rescue and steal you away. But that would never happen.
As you awaited everything you’d ordered, your home still only held a mattress, Lando’s gaming set up and boxes that were filled with various objects. One of those boxes held your collection of books. Your collection grew through the years as you got older, the collection expanding a lot quicker since you and Lan had started dating. Everytime he traveled without you, he would stop by a bookstore and get you a book. Whether it be a special edition of a book or just something he thought you’d like, he always came back with one to add to your collection.
“Baby.” Lando called to you, jumping onto the mattress where you laid.
“Baby.” you reply.
“I was thinking-”
Sitting up fast and gasping, “You can do that?”
Lando’s jaw dropped, “Rude?! You know what? Nevermind.” begins to stand up to walk away, hiding a smile.
“No! Come on, baby. I was joking. Tell me what you were thinking.” you say, pulling his arm so that he falls over top of you on the bed.
“Fine. Only cause I love you so much.” the man says, receiving several kisses from you that scatter his face.
“I love you too. Now, tell me.”
“Do you wanna go to ikea? I know we ordered most of the furniture or we’re going to some stores in person but we need to get some bookshelves for your books. We can get to building them today and putting away the books.” he says, moving to stand, “That way we can clear a few boxes and we’ll have more room for activities.” he says as he pranced around the room, twirling in the air as if he was a dancer.
You laugh at the show before you, being eternally grateful for his existence and the chaos he brings with him, “That sounds amazing, Lan. We can go now. That way we’re not up late trying to put together the bookshelves.”
“How hard can putting together bookshelves be?”
-=+=-
Lando and you took the opportunity to enjoy the day to the fullest. The sun was out so you guys drove with the windows down, blasting some Taylor Swift and singing your hearts out to each other.
Although the drive was fun, the same can’t be said for the adventure in Ikea… The two of you got lost for 5 hours inside of the Ikea. And don’t ask how, cause not even God knows how the two of you got lost, though it might have to do with the fact that you guys share a brain cell…
Eventually, with the help of an Ikea employee, the two of you made it out to the other side, half tempted to kiss the ground once you saw the sun again.
-=+=-
Finally, after a stop at Mcdonalds for some dinner, the two of you were safe and sound at home, cutting open the boxes that contained the pieces of wood to build the bookshelves. As Lando was unboxing the pieces, he began throwing things about, not paying any mind to what was going where.
“Lan, calm down. We’re gonna lose the instructions if you keep doing that.”
“Pish posh. Who needs instructions for bookshelves? It’s easy. I built that desk myself with no instructions.” he says, pointing to the desk that holds his gaming set up… the most basic table to have ever existed.
You put your hands on your hips as you exhale loudly, “Lan, that table has 5 pieces total…”
“And? I still did it. Ya know why? Cause I’m super smart and super strong. I don’t need the instructions… Now… where do we start…?” he says as he rests his hands on his hips, squinting as the mess of screws and panels of wood he scattered on the floor.
-=+=-
Building a bookshelf was NOT as easy and Lando claimed it would be. Not only were the instructions missing, but Lando kept insisting he didn’t need them. You tried to help him but it felt as if the pieces kept moving on their own. You felt like the boys in the Maze Runner, trying to figure out the pattern of the maze changes every night.
It’s been two hours since anyones spoken… so it startles you when he breaks the silence, “How… is the bookshelf… inside out…?”
“It’s 9pm… and we still haven’t finished the first bookshelf… we have 6 more to build…”
“FUCK”
#formula 1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 writing#f1 x you#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris#norris x reader#mclaren#formula 1 imagine#formula one#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fic#lando norris fluff
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Chapter 1
『For we're all that we need』
Disparities Between Our Souls
You were enjoying a peaceful lunch with your husband when you two were transported into your home-universe that you hadn't been in since 5 years ago
Disclaimer: This chapter focuses on Miguel and Reader, Batfam is only implied/mentioned. They will appear next chapter
Prologue <- Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2

The halls of the Spider HQ were big, never failing to amaze you. The abundant amount of spidermen had surprised you when you first woke up here and to find out you were one yourself was even more of a shock.
Never in your life would you have expected to be transported into another world and become some sort of mutant, but you definitely wouldn’t change it. Especially now as you swing to your dear husband’s office.
Miguel O’hara, the leader and founder of the Spider HQ and also the one who chased after a 16 year-old boy. Yep, that was (un)fortunately your man. Thankfully that whole fiasco was over before you even arrived. From what you heard, he eventually ended up realising and coming to terms that canon events weren’t so canon and they could be altered, depending on the universe.
But enough of that. You were here today, swinging around the HQ to deliver your husband some food because you knew he would be busy taking care of the spiderverse—or as he likes to call it, ‘The Arachno-Humanoid Poly Multiverse’— to take care of himself.
With a plate of food in your hands, you swung up to the platform he was on.
“Darling, I have some food for you. Take a break and eat with me?” You asked him.
“Mi corazón, I’m busy, you know this.” He stated, almost groaning but in a teasing way.
“Miguel.” You stood your ground and watched him as he sighed, moving closer to you and pulling the screens closer. Fine, you could compromise with this, as long as he ate. “How have you been, dear? Need any help dealing with the anomalies?”
“No, not now at least. For now, they’ve mostly been in low numbers and the new recruits are usually able to deal with them themselves.”
“Alright then. Any leads as to why they’re still appearing though?”
“Still none. I would’ve hoped that they’d had disappeared when Morales was finally dealt with but they’re still ongoing. Lyla’s theorising something else it at play here and I fear she could be right.”
You stayed quiet, deep in thought. These anomalies were off, something about them had given you the wrong feeling, especially when you were on-field fighting them. You had mentioned it before to Miguel, but you both chalked it up to the fact that in technicality, you were also an anomaly, a similar but also vastly different case to Miles Morales.
“Do you think I’m related to the anomalies in some way?” You blurt out.
“As much as I hate to admit it, it’s most likely.” Your brows furrowed in concern. This further complicated the matter at hand. Being an anomaly yourself meant you were already connected to the others in some way, but if there was any chance that this relationship between you and the anomalies was any deeper, danger was most certainly waiting just around the corner. You two spent the next few moment in silence, slowly processing that possibility.
“Well enough of that. I came here so that you would finally eat, so take some.” You nudged a roll of pandesal towards him, alongside a cup of coffee. You had your own right pair next to you, standing on a makeshift table made of webs.
He sighed before muttering a small thank you under his breath and the smallest smile on his face. Well, you’d take what you could get. You both enjoyed your food and drink in silence as you sat on the ledge of the platform and Miguel continued working. It was a comfortable quiet, unspoken words of love were understood and picked up by the both of you. A small respite in both of your usually chaotic lives.
But as luck would have it, this peace did not last long. You didn’t even have time to finish your food when a portal opened up in front of the platform. You stood up quickly, stance in a fighting position, Miguel also suddenly on alert, his arm in front of you in a protective manner.
Portals were a normal thing for the both of you, an everyday use even. Yet, this was weird. No portal had ever opened up in this room. Most respected the privacy of their leader and always opened the portals outside of his office. That wasn’t even the most off-putting thing. This portal was different, the shapes and colours were all wrong, all different from the ones spawned from the gizmos on your wrists. Yet, it seemed familiar to you. Like you saw it once and then stored it at the back of your mind to forget about it. That couldn’t have been right though, any portals you’ve seen are the ones made by the watch.
You didn’t have time to worry about this though. Danger could be come out of that opening at any moment and you needed to be ready. But danger would not come to you. No. It would pull you into it instead. Quite literally when both you and your husband were tugged into the portal.
The journey through the portal was short, but most certainly not smooth. With being pulled in unexpectedly and the inside itself feeling like it was tossing you around, the landing was rough. It felt like you were picked up and were thrown away carelessly with indifference.
Miguel regained to his feet before you and held out a hand for you to help you stand up. As you oriented to your surroundings, you could feel your blood go cold. The sky was dark, vastly different from the midday sky that you were previously in. Even though it was night, stars didn’t light up the night sky, instead smog filled the skylines. Buildings stood tall, reaching for the sky but always too short. The streets were quiet, like a the silence of a forest when a predator is near. The rain dripping onto your head was the final confirmation.
You were in Gotham.
You were back in the city you grew up in. The city that raised you to be the person you are now. The city you had so many conflicting emotions about. You were not ready for this confrontation. In fact, you might never be.
So, like the coward you were, you quickly pulled your mask back to cover your face and turned to Miguel. He quickly takes the hint and puts his on as well.
“We have to get home. We can’t stay here.” You fiddle with your gizmo, attempting to open a portal back up to the HQ, but nothing. Miguel looked at your struggle and tried to get his own to work as well but it was a futile attempt. Nothing seemed wrong with the gizmos, except for the fact the no portal was opening up. You hoped that everything else was working fine.
Miguel had no knowledge of this strange world. All he knew was that you didn’t want either of you to stay here, and who was he to doubt your words? The situation was alright at first. Yes, it was suspicious that you two were dropped off here by some unknown entity, but there seemed to be no immediate danger and you two could easily open a portal back to the HQ.
At least he thought so.
But when both of your gizmos failed, he could feel worry start seeping in. No, this is fine, he could fix the gizmo. He didn’t have any tools though. What was even wrong with it? It had been working perfectly fine before you were dropped into this foreign universe.
He could see you pacing back and forth on the rooftop you two were on. Although he couldn’t see your face, he knew there was a frown etched onto our face.
“Mi corazón.” He called for you, but you were still in your trance. “Corazón.” He called out a little louder, and still nothing. He quickly gave up on words and walked over to you, softly grabbing your hand to pull you out.
“What?” You snap at him before regretting it almost instantly. You take a big breath and try to calm yourself down. “I’m sorry, I’m just stressed.”
“It’s alright mi vida. Can you tell me what’s got you so worried and where we are?” He spoke to you softly. You take another breath, mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you were about to have.
“We’re in my home universe.”
“Ah.” That was all he needed to know. He had heard enough of your ramblings about your old life to know why you were reacting this way.
“Why isn’t the gizmo working?” You ask, point-blank.
“I’m not sure. Maybe there’s something about this universe that’s stopping us from being able to communicate with the others. I attempted to get in contact with other spidermen but no response.” The Spider HQ must be a mess right now, with the sudden disappearance of their leader. He hoped you two could quickly make it back home or else you two would be coming back to chaos.
You opened your mouth to say something but were interrupted when you felt your spider senses tingling. You could see Miguel’s signature scowl form on his face, it seemed he could hear the danger you were sensing.
You both take a look around at your surroundings, and not too far off into the distance you see a Doc Ock terrorising the poor citizens of Gotham.
No, that wasn’t right. Your universe shouldn’t have a Doc Ock, hell you didn’t have any of the standard spidey villains. There was only one reason for this
An anomaly was in your universe.
Farther into the distance, you could see the bat sign light up the night sky. Shit. You needed to hurry before your family could get to this. You and Miguel looked at each other and nodded. A silent agreement to continue the conversation later and also take this anomaly down as soon as possible.

Taglist
@kik1010 @cxcilla @00hellohello00 @bluepanda08 @frankie-moon3 @guyfuitty @lumi320 @type-ink @kye-chen-r @sugasweettea @sillyheartmoonnyx @definitely-not-sammie @birbtweettweet @itsberrydreemurstuff @bellethesleepypotato
Another chapter done, yippee! I'm sorry this is focusing more on Reader and Miguel, but I needed to introduce some plot points and it ended up being too long for the batfam to make an appearance
As said in a previous post, I don't speak Spanish, so if those nicknames are cringe or something then please do tell me how to improve it and I will gladly change it
Anyways this has been another busy week. I finished my prepL, took my license photo, started watching the bayverse transformers movies and prepared for the start of the school year on Tues
Speaking of school, I have no idea if that will affect my upload schedule but it most likely won't until a few weeks in.
As per usual, you are free to point out any mistakes. I don't edit my work cuz my ADHD won't allow me to and I don't have a beta reader so I am bound to have some mistakes here and there
Fun fact, my titles (except for the story title) come from songs. The Prologue came from Never Love An Anchor by The Crane Wives and this chapter's came from Abandon Ship by Fin. I recommend you listen to them, they're so good!
Have a great day everyone <3
#astraeus-tree#dbos#disparities between our souls#batfamily x neglected reader#batfamily x reader#batfam x reader#alfred pennyworth#bruce wayne#cassandra cain#damian al ghul#damian wayne#batfam#batman#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake wayne#tim drake#x reader#reader insert#gender neutral reader#gn reader#x gn reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#astv#astv miguel#astv x reader#astv x batfam
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I was looking up tips for baiting cats because I need some help getting the current foster cat comfortable with the carrier, and a place with lots of these articles and tips are TNR sites (Trap Neuter Release)
Now, a term they like to use a lot is “community cats” in reference to strays that are shy but still comfortable coming near humans and are non aggressive, they like to talk about the special role these cats play in their community
Now another name for a community cat, I feel, is a cat that can be rehabilitated and adopted out to a family that will care for it. In fact of the 12 cats I have fostered, including this one, 6 have spent time as strays and after being given medical treatment for the various injuries and illnesses they get living outside, they will live with one of us volunteers for a bit to get used to people and then go to the shelter for further help and then are adopted out. Every cat I have fostered has been adopted and stayed adopted with that family
I get that cats that wander into your yard and let you feed them are cute. My aunt had 4 she fed, a mother and the three kittens that survived. Before the age of 5, two disappeared and were never seen again and one was found dead on her porch after eating something toxic somewhere and then going back to her place to sleep. Only 25% of the neighborhood cats, who had at least one person feeding them daily, survived past 5 years old. They were all TNRed and I bet the younger ones probably could have been rehabbed and adopted when they were caught young but nope they were let back outside and died painful deaths within a few years
Idk just, after fostering so many of that kind of cat and seeing them lose their fear and become very loving and happy and then going to a family, it bugs me when cats that are caught and have the chance to be helped are just put back outside to get hit by cars or die from eating rat poison with the idea that this is truly the best thing for them
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— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒
prompt drabble series - nonverbal ways to say ‘i love you’
5 - remembering a trivial fact about them
prompts from promptingyou
PAIRING: logan howlett x gn!reader
TAGS: they/them pronouns for reader, fluff, actions speak louder than words is logan’s strong suit, tall!logan bc i love hugh jackman :)
A/N: deadpool and wolverine revived my love for logan so this is just self-indulgent bc i love him so so much. the x-men movies were my gateway into marvel so i just have to show my man some love yk? happy reading <3
WORD COUNT: 597
masterlist || request box <3
You and Logan weren’t that close. Aside from having rooms right next to each other and being co-workers, you didn’t know much about him. Rarely were you ever in a room with him when it was just you two.
Heading over to the kitchen for a midnight snack, you stumble upon him smoking by the window. “Can't sleep either?" you asked as you quietly padded across the wood.
Logan merely grunted in response, taking a drag of his cigar. Grabbing the tub of your favorite ice cream from the freezer, you took a seat at the counter. The tub was practically almost empty so you resorted to eating straight out of it. "Are those really any better than regular cigarettes?" you carefully asked in hopes of breaking the awkward silence—well, at least to you it was awkward. At your question, he turned over his shoulder and leaned to sit down against the window sill, his eyebrows furrowed a little deeper than they normally were.
"Haven't tried anything but these," he replied, glancing down at it before looking back at you, a hint of confusion in his eyes.
"What?"
"You're the first person who's caught me smoking inside that didn’t immediately remind me of Chuck's stupid rule."
"I mean… it is a good rule considering this whole place is built of wood," you joked, taking another bite of ice cream before speaking again. "I'm not one for rules either anyways. It'd be a bit hypocritical of me to get on your case, don't you think?"
He hummed, the tiniest smirk on his face at your nonchalance. He'd been living and teaching (begrudgingly) at the mansion for a while now, but a lot of the kids and other X-Men were still intimidated by him. His tough guy façade certainly didn’t help much but that’s just how he was used to living after being alive for almost 200 years. But that never seemed to deter you. Putting out his cigar, he started to head back to his room. "Don't stay up too late, bub," he muttered as he passed you.
"Night, Logan,” you called over your shoulder, scraping the sides of the tub as you finished it out. Throwing it away, you made a mental note to grab more whenever you went back out to get groceries.
A couple days later…
“Shit,” you muttered under your breath as you made your way down to the kitchen. It was pretty early in the day, but you weren’t one to let the time of day deter you from snacking on a few scoops of ice cream. Then you remembered. You had eaten the last bit the other night when you ran into Logan and had yet to restock. Damn.
So it came as a surprise to see yet another full tub in the freezer when you went to rummage through it to find something else to satiate your sweet tooth. A post-it was taped to the top of it, big black letters scrawled across it.
For Y/N. If you’re not them, do not touch this. - Logan
Your face brightened as you read it. Sure, it wasn’t that sweet of a message, but you’d take what you could get. Pulling it out, you realized it was the same exact flavor—your favorite flavor—and brand you loved. You’d barely spent five minutes with each other the other night, but he remembered.
“I gotta thank him later,” you thought to yourself as you sat down, your day made by the gesture. Maybe your efforts to befriend him weren’t a lost cause after all.
#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett fic#xmen fic#wolverine#wolverine fic#wolverine fluff#wolverine angst#marvel#marvel fic#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#hugh jackman#logan howlett#xmen
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The Arrangement ~ Chapter 5
Series Masterlist
Words: 8.2k
Pairing: Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders) x Reader F
Warnings: References to physical violence, planning physical violence
You learn your mother's whereabouts (sort of) but can't help feeling information is being kept from you by the Shelbys. Arthur gets some things off his chest. Tommy confronts Rory and begins to understand his plan may cost him the one thing he wanted most.
Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.
For once, Tommy had woken up warm. Not from the whiskey. Not from the fire dying in the fireplace. But from her.
The soft rise and fall of her breath as she slept kept him calm, and if he focused on it, he could keep most of his troubles at bay. At least until dawn. Her arm draped over his chest, light and unknowing, but real. He liked the idea that she needed to know he was there by her side in sleep. Lying in wasn’t a thing he allowed himself often. Moments like that didn’t belong to men like him. And maybe that’s why he hadn’t moved. Tommy just laid there for a few extra minutes, watching the early light spill across the ceiling, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing.
It was a rare glimpse of normalcy, of stolen peaceful. But peace came with a clock ticking beside it. And somewhere deep down, he knew it couldn’t last.
But he wanted it to. God help him, he wanted it. What would he give for a thousand mornings like this one. Waking up with her next to him, the world outside their room unable to reach them.
He wanted to see her face when Polly showed her the sewing machine, see the way her eyes lit up when she realized it was hers to use, not just something borrowed. He wanted to ask her what she was making, watch her learn the machine and marvel at its convenience. He could sit in silence while her hands moved with purpose. Listen to her hum a song, or curse softly when a stitch went wrong. He wanted to come home every day and find her there in his home. He wanted to have her waiting in his bed each night.
He would never get last night out of his head if he lived to be a hundred. He could tell himself that she offered herself up so sweetly for sewing needles and something to do. Any other women, he would have flatly believed that. But he already told her she could have what she wanted -- as if he'd ever be able to say no to her. Tommy had no expectations. Would he have tried to seduce her? Yes. But she came at him first, shy but willing with those innocent eyes and that siren's smile. No agenda, no artifice. Everything else was forgotten. The scars the war left on his body and mind. The fact that he was the most ruthless man in Birmingham, and all the sins that bloodied his hands and blackened his heart. She'd just wanted him.
Tommy wanted so many impossible things, and that scared him. Because wanting was dangerous, leading to weakness and mistakes.
To pain.
But still… He wanted it all the same.
It took real effort on his part to leave the bed but he managed, peeling himself away like a man trying not to wake up from a dream. He washed up, dressed in silence, every movement mechanical, but slower than usual. Like part of him wanted to stretch the morning out just a little longer.
And just as he reached the door, he glanced back. She had shifted in her sleep, rolling toward where he’d been, now curled into the hollow his body had left behind, like she’d trapped his warmth for herself. In moments like this, there was no anxiety in her face. No worry creasing her brow. No guarded tension in her shoulders. Just peace. The kind he’d spent his life chasing and but had never quite caught. And for a brief second, he let himself imagine a world where he could give that to her—where it was his name, not his silence, that made her feel safe.
But the world didn’t work like that. So he turned, and walked out, already bracing for whatever the day held. He didn't have to wait long.
Tommy stood by the hearth, one hand resting on the mantle, the other adjusting his cufflink with deliberate calm. The cigarette between his fingers was half-burned and almost forgotten with the weight of everything preying on his mind.
He heard Polly before he saw her. She moved with purpose and when she stepped into the sitting room, he didn’t look at her right away. If she was here this early, it wasn’t for pleasantries.
“I’ve heard from Maeve March," she said.
Tommy didn’t move. Just waited. He could already feel the conversation sharpening like a blade. “And?”
Polly’s voice cut through the silence, sharper than it had any right to be at this hour. “Her mother’s not just in bed from worry, Tommy. She’s been beaten within an inch of her life.”
Tommy stilled, halfway through adjusting his cufflink, the weight of the words settling like stone in his chest.
Polly didn’t stop there. “Bruises, Tommy. Arms. Ribs. Face. One of her legs is broken. She hasn’t been seen in days because she can’t be. Maeve said she heard this from the doctor’s wife and he’s been out to the house twice. Said it looked like someone tied her to the bumper of their motorcar and dragged her for miles.” Her tone had shifted, less anger now, more concern. “And we both know who did it.”
Tommy exhaled, his fingers stilled, cufflink forgotten as he turned toward the window.
Polly stepped closer, her voice lower now. “This is what comes of your game, Thomas. You didn’t just humiliate him—you cornered him. And cowards like Sean O’Grady? They only know how to fight down.” She let him think about her words for a moment. “He couldn’t get to the girl and apparently the doctor's been out there to see her a time or two for the same thing. He turned to the only other woman who couldn’t fight back.”
And the silence that followed said everything Tommy didn’t. His jaw flexed. His cigarette burned to ash between his fingers, forgotten.
All this time, he thought his girl was just a victim of circumstance. Of bad men making worse choices. Of a wager no one should’ve accepted. But now? Now he knew the truth. The bruises hadn’t started with the coin toss. Sean had been laying hands on her and her mother long before that. And no one had been able to stop him. Rory’s rage now made perfect sense. It wasn’t reckless, it was inherited, sharpened by years of silence and the sick knowing that no one had ever come to save them.
Until now. Tommy didn’t care what it took or what names he had to bury along the way. He wasn’t just going to silence Sean O’Grady. He was going to make sure his girl never had to look over her shoulder again.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“No. That’s why I’m going.”
He nodded. If it was true—if Sean had really laid hands on his wife—then it wasn’t just a rumor anymore. It was action. And desperate men did stupid things.
But before he could respond, Polly kept going. “You think you’re still in control of this. But you’re not. It’s slipping.”
Control. That word again. That damn word everyone liked to throw at him when they didn’t understand the stakes. “She’s safe here.”
“Physically, yes. But emotionally? Mentally?” Polly’s voice sharpened. “She doesn’t know what you did to get her here. That it was you who set all of this in motion.”
Tommy took a drag from his cigarette, inhaled, letting the smoke curl in his lungs before answering. “What I did was necessary.” But even to him, the words rang hollow.
Polly didn’t back down. She never did. “What you did was selfish.”
His pulse kicked up at that. Her words struck deeper than he’d admit. Because he knew it was true. He’d told himself the wager was about teaching Small Heath a lesson. About punishing the men who treated women like they were worth less than the coins in their pockets. But the truth? The truth was that he’d seen her—really seen her—and wanted her. And he’d orchestrated everything else to make that want seem righteous.
Polly stepped closer, her voice lower now. Not angry. Just disappointed. “She doesn’t know you planted the wager in the first place. And everything that's happened since is a result of that. Her mother could have died. Her brother? I hope he's not planning to do something stupid.”
Tommy exhaled slowly. That old ache began to stir in his chest again—the one he ignored, the one he doused with whiskey and war stories and work. “She’ll know when I decide it’s time.”
When I can frame it right. When she’s too close to leave.
“And what if that time comes too late?” Polly asked.
Tommy looked at her, finally. Really looked and saw the warning in her eyes. Because Polly had seen it all before. She’d watched him build things out of strategy—empires, alliances, illusions. And she’d watched him destroy them just as fast when emotion crept in.
“If I tell her now, I lose her,” he admitted. It came out quieter than he meant it to. But it was the truth. The raw, ugly center of all of it.
Polly didn’t gloat, but she didn’t soften either. “If you don’t, you'll lose her anyway. But next time, it’ll be because she ran. And you’ll deserve it.”
With that said, she made her way out of the room. Coat over her arm, heels clicking softly against the wood floors.
Tommy didn’t call after her. Just stood there, the silence thick around him, smoke curling from his cigarette, his thoughts loud and dark.
***
The sewing machine was beautiful. When Tommy mentioned his family had one, you didn't picture anything that fancy. It was older but clean, polished like someone had taken care to bring it back to life. All you could do was stare at it, waiting in the sitting room like it had always belonged there, a small pile of fabric, a couple of white shirts, and an open tin filled with needles, thread, and dull metal thimbles were placed neatly beside it. A quiet invitation.
“Polly?” you asked, voice soft.
She turned from the shelf she’d been rearranging, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Thought you might like to have a go,” she said. “Tommy said to get you whatever you needed.”
That part still made your chest tighten. He’d said that. He wanted you to have this. You ran your fingers over the machine’s edge, still unsure you were allowed to want anything. “Thank you,” you whispered.
Polly didn’t rush you. She just moved to the chair next to you, lowering herself with a soft grunt, her sharp eyes taking you in like she was trying to read the spaces between your words. "You'll learn it,” she said. “I was never any good at sewing anything but even I figured it out... You and your mother brought in money with your mending. You're not afraid of work.”
You gave a small smile. “Never had the choice.”
That earned a slow nod. “Tell me about your family,” she said gently. “Before all this.”
You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk—it was that you didn’t know where to begin.
“My mother,” you said finally, voice small, “she’s kind. Quiet. She used to hum to herself while she worked. Always trying to keep the peace. But… she doesn’t speak up much anymore.”
Polly nodded, saying nothing, letting you go on.
“Rory… he’s younger than me, but always acted older. Always trying to be the man of the house, even when we both knew the one already there wouldn’t let him.” You didn’t say his name.
Polly’s voice softened. “Your stepfather?”
Your hands froze where they’d been sorting the many items in the tin. You shook your head. “He's not a nice man. He drinks and gambles. There have been many a night when there was nothing to eat because of it. He has fits of rage. Mostly at my mother, even though she's done nothing wrong. Sometimes he'd go after Rory, when he spoke out. He doesn't liked being challenged. And he hated being reminded that he wasn't our real father.”
You felt Polly watching you. Not with pity. With something stronger. “Did he ever raise a hand to you?” she asked carefully.
You swallowed. Eyes on the machine. “Not often. He knew how to get his point across without leaving marks.”
Polly reached out then, her hand resting over yours. “You’re not there anymore, love.”
You nodded, though your throat was tight.
“And neither is your mother.”
Your gaze met hers. What?
“She’s safe,” Polly said gently. “We got her out of that house this morning to a place that's safe and guarded. She's out of your stepfather's reach.”
Your breath caught as you tried to wrap your mind about what this really meant. “She’s safe?”
“She is.” But something flickered in Polly’s eyes. Just for a split second. Something that didn’t match the reassurance in her voice.
You saw it in the way she looked past you instead of at you. There was something she wasn't saying. And just like that, the warm relief that had just started to settle in your chest evaporated. Why had they moved your mother now instead of when this started? And if she needed to be kept safe, why couldn't she be with you?
Oh, you knew as well as anyone that your stepfather wouldn't have allowed her to do anything, much less try to find you. But you'd hoped for something. Even a message slipped to you through the staff. And suddenly— suddenly —they decided to move her?
You didn't think Polly wasn't lying. But she wasn’t telling the whole truth either. Something had happened. You just didn’t know what.
"Can I go see her?" you had to ask. "Is she alright?"
Polly paused, but only for a second. There was a slight shift in her eyes. The faintest pause between syllables.The way her gaze darted, like someone avoiding a detail they didn’t want to give voice to. The smile she flashed you was gentle, but composed.
“She’s safe. And that’s what matters most.” Another beat. “You’ll see her. Just… not yet. Not until Tommy finally puts an end to all this.”
You nodded slowly, but your heart sank because you knew there was more to the story. Polly Gray wasn’t a liar. But she was loyal to her family first just as you were. And if she wasn’t telling you everything…It meant the rest was something you weren’t ready to hear. Or worse, something you weren’t meant to know at all.
Polly gave your hand a gentle squeeze before leaning back in her chair, settling like she wasn’t in a hurry. “Your father,” she said after a quiet moment, her voice softer now, thoughtful. “Malachy Flynn. I remember him.”
You knew it was a jump to another topic but you still wanted to hear what she had to say. “You do?”
Polly nodded. “He used to come by the Garrison sometimes. Before it was ours. Kept to himself. Brave man, from what I heard. What I remember was that he was unfailingly kind.”
It was rare that anyone talked about him these days. Tommy mentioned knowing him from the war. Rarer still that anyone remembered him as kind.
“Life was different before he died,” you said quietly. “Calmer. We didn’t have much, but… there was laughter.”
Polly’s eyes darkened just slightly, gaze drifting for a moment to something far away.
“That war took too much from all of us,” she murmured. “Our sons, our husbands, our homes. It didn’t stop at the trenches. It came back with the ones who survived.” Her voice turned heavier now. Measured. “It turned my nephews into ghosts for a while. John buried it under jokes. Arthur drowned it in drink and fists. And Tommy…” She paused, studying you closely now. “Well, Tommy learned to keep breathing while everything inside him was already dead.”
Your breath caught at that. You didn’t mean to, but you leaned in a little, as if her words might bring him into sharper focus.
Polly noticed. “He’s different with you,” she said, just a touch of warmth threading her voice. “It’s not a thing he’d say, not aloud. But I know what I see.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. All you knew was that the mention of your father had brought something back. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time. And now, the idea that someone like Tommy Shelby might have once been broken, and was somehow trying to come back from it, that settled into your chest like hope.
He’s different with you.
You didn’t reply. You couldn’t. Because what were you supposed to say to that? That it shouldn't matter? That it didn’t? That it couldn’t? What did Polly think this was? Some slow, unlikely romance where the broken soldier finds solace in the girl he stole from her life? You weren’t a story. You were cargo from a bet. Collateral in a lesson that had nothing to do with you until Tommy Shelby made it so.
And yet…
He’d spoken to Rory. Rather your brother had sought him out, confronting a man that terrified most of Birmingham. Your brother was still breathing and unbruised, and somehow that had meant more than you let on. Now your mother had been moved, tucked away somewhere safe by the very people who had upended your life. That kind of protection didn’t come cheap. Or without purpose.
Why? Why were they still shielding you like you were precious, like you mattered? Why was Polly sitting here, placing sewing kits in your hands like you belonged here?
Yes, you knew Tommy had interfered the moment you tried to flee that night and you found yourself caught in his snare. But back then you assumed he was just protecting what he’d taken. You still assumed that. Didn’t you? You were meant to stay until the storm passed. Until whatever lesson he was teaching Small Heath had sunk in. Then you'd be released—damaged, maybe, but still walking. That was the plan. Wasn’t it?
You glanced down at your hands, resting in your lap. They were steady now. Stronger than when you'd first arrived. It scared you. Because if you were being made whole again, it meant something in this place was stitching you back together. And if you started to want it… Well, you weren’t sure you’d survive being sent home.
Polly just watched you, calm and quiet, letting the silence stretch. She always seemed to know when to push and when to let something sink in. But after a moment, she shifted slightly in her chair, hands folded in her lap, her voice softer than before. “I don’t know what he told you,” she said, eyes still on you. “Or what you’ve let yourself believe.”
Your gaze lifted, cautious.
“But I’ve lived with those boys long enough to know the difference between when they want something… and when they mean it.”
“What is it you think Tommy means?” you asked, surprising yourself with how small your voice sounded.
Polly didn’t answer right away. She just studyied you like she was trying to decide what you could handle. “I think he’s still figuring that out for himself,” she said. “And that’s the part that worries me.”
Holding your breath, you waited for her to explain.
“Because if he gets it wrong?" Polly gave a small, sad smile. “Then you’ll be the one who pays for it.”
And just like that, she stood. No dramatic exit. No final remark to twist the knife. She simply touched your shoulder in passing—warm, steady, like a thread pulling you back from unraveling—then left the room with her usual grace.
Polly’s footsteps faded down the hall, but her words didn’t. You sat there, motionless, her touch still warm on your shoulder. And that question kept echoing: What does it mean to pay for it? Did it mean being cast out once his point had been made? Forgotten the moment he tired of the game? Or worse, kept close, like a favorite possession, never quite free again? You weren’t sure which outcome scared you more.
You sat there long after she was gone, the sewing machine quiet beside you, the only sound in the room the soft ticking of the grandfather clock. Your fingers rested on the fabric in your lap. Still, like they’d forgotten what they were supposed to be doing. You weren’t even thinking about sewing.
Because now, your mind wasn’t just circling around what had happened. It was inching toward what might come next.
It wasn’t just the secrets still hanging in the air, or the careful way Polly had chosen her words. The ground beneath your feet didn’t feel as solid as it had the day before—if it ever had at all. You felt it in the silence, in Tommy’s absence. In the look Polly flashed you before quickly taking it back. Something underneath everything was building. And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you were ready for it. Would you be able to handle answers, consequences, or whatever version of truth might finally arrive?
The sewing machine was all but forgotten next to you, its silent presence now feeling more like a question than a gift. You reached for the thread, but before you could start, you heard footsteps. They were heavier and uneven in pace. He was someone who never moved quietly. When his shadow filled the doorway, you froze.
Arthur Shelby.
He paused when he saw you, mouth tightening, like he’d expected someone else. Or maybe no one at all.
You stood slowly, out of instinct. Out of respect.
He waved a hand. “Don’t—don’t get up. Just…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
You sat again, cautiously.
He lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, and for a moment, you thought he’d leave without saying anything else.
“You any good at that?” he nodded toward the machine.
“I’ve never tried before. I usually do all the sewing by hand.”
“Guess that’s good then,” he muttered, scratching at his jaw. “Means Tommy’s shirts’ll be fixed for free.”
It took you a second to realize he was joking. Was he offering a truce?
You smiled. “If I am, I'll be fixing your shirts for free too.”
A smile played about Arthur's lips, stepping into the room with slow, deliberate movements like he was trying not to scare you. He sat down in the chair across from you, and close up, he looked older, tired. At least he wasn't angry like before. You were grateful for that.
“Listen,” he said after a moment, “about before...”
You didn’t say anything, but the memory still lingered in the back of your mind. His voice, his fury, the look in his eyes when he’d cornered you in the foyer. The blame you hadn’t earned.
“I was wrong,” he muttered, staring at a spot on the floor. “I was drunk and dumb. Blamed you for something you didn’t do. Wasn’t fair.” He shifted in the chair, clearly uncomfortable. It was the kind of apology that came with splinters—halting, awkward, like every word scraped its way up from somewhere he didn’t like to go.
“Whole bloody ordeal,” he added after a moment, with a short shake of his head. He looked up at you, for just a moment. Some emotion flash in his eyes but it was gone before you could make it out. Regret, maybe. “Not makin’ excuses,” he added quickly. “Just sayin’… it was a mess. And I was part of it.” He rubbed his hands together like he was trying to scrub the guilt off. “Should’ve known better. Should’ve put an end to it.”
You sat frozen, listening, unsure how to respond. The hurt was still there, but it was softer now, wrapped in the rough edges of his humility.
Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know how it looks. Like we’re just… monsters. Men with power, doing whatever the fuck we want. But it’s not always like that.”
Was he trying to defend what happened or just looking for a way to make sense of it?
“What happened to you,” he continued, more gently than before, “it shouldn’t’ve happened. Not to you. Not to anyone. Tommy's putting that to rights. It's the least he can do.” He looked up then, met your eyes properly for the first time. “I’m sorry. Truly am.”
It wasn’t polished or elegant, but it was genuine. And for a man like Arthur Shelby, who so rarely admitted fault or failure, that meant something to you. He blew out a breath, like he’d been holding it the whole time.
You nodded slowly, your throat tight. “Thank you. Takes a lot to admit that."
He snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.” Then, after a beat, he offered a half-smile and said, “Still don’t know why you’re fixin’ shirts for free. Must be mad.” And just like that, the tension broke, replaced by something lighter. A fragile kind of peace. And maybe, if only in small pieces, a bit of healing.
You looked at him, surprised. "He hasn't actually asked me to fix them yet. There's a couple here but I don't know who they belong to. I guess this will come in handy."
That had you both smiling, the tension easing. There was a long pause between you, but not a heavy one. A careful kind of quiet.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he leaned back and added, “He’s gone soft, you know.”
That got your attention, your gaze meeting his.
“Tommy.” Arthur gestured vaguely, like the word alone held too much to unpack. “Would’ve never done half of this for anyone else. Not unless there was a deal at the end of it. Some gain. But you?” He shook his head slowly. “You’re not a play. You’re not leverage. If you were, I’d have seen it by now.”
Your heart squeezed in your chest. You looked down at your hands, unsure what to say. You thought there was a reason. His lesson for Small Heath. What was Arthur trying to say?
“Not sayin’ he’s easy. My brother is anything but that. Or good at this sort of thing. He’s fuckin' not.” Arthur gave a quiet, tired laugh. “Hell, he’s more likely to set fire to his own happiness than admit he wants any.” He stood, brushing his palms down his trousers, like shaking off something heavy. “But whatever else this started as… it’s different now. And if I can see it? Maybe you will too. Take care of yourself, yeah?"
Then he gave a short nod, more to himself than to you, and left you there, surrounded by quiet and questions, with one more layer of Tommy Shelby to unravel.
***
Tommy was in his office at the betting shop, bent over the day’s ledger, though he hadn’t turned a page in nearly half an hour. The silence around him was heavy, weighted by everything he hadn’t said, everything he’d done, and knowing that it was all catching up with him.
The door opened without a knock. Only one man entered like that. Arthur.
Tommy didn’t look up at first. He knew this was coming. Had felt it building in the quiet glares and the unspoken tension since the day after the wager. Since Arthur had looked at him like a stranger in their own house. So when Arthur stepped into the room and let the silence sit between them like a weight, Tommy didn’t bother filling it. Because whatever Arthur had to say, he’d earned the right to say it.
Arthur stood on the other side of the desk, the intensity Tommy expected to see in his face. “I saw her today. Spoke to her.”
Tommy looked up slowly. Not defensive or braced for a fight. Because that was the thing about Arthur, when he wasn’t angry, when he was honest, it cut far deeper than a bullet.
“I treated her like shite because I thought she was part of all this.” His voice cracked slightly. “Turns out she was just caught in it. I thought you flashed me those drawers as part of your theatrics. But...”
Tommy closed the ledger gently. “You were angry. I let you be. I had my reasons.”
Arthur’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, well. I’m your brother, not your pawn. And now people are fuckin' talkin’. O’Grady’s got folks whispering my name in alleyways like I’m the one who stole her. Like I—” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. “Do you know what that feels like?”
Tommy stood, slowly. Walked around the desk. Not threatening, but direct.
Arthur looked at him. Hard. "Why’d you do it, Tom? Was it about the girl... or the message?”
Tommy didn’t speak for a long moment. Then he looked away, toward the window. “Started with her.”
Arthur absorbed that in silence. "She's different and you know it. She's no whore. She'll make some lucky bastard a good wife... And you still used her.”
It was a truth Tommy couldn’t argue with. Because he had. He’d maneuvered her like a piece on a board. Now, hearing it out loud, from his own brother, no less, felt like a blade slipping past his ribs.
“I protected her.” But the words sounded hollow even as Tommy said them.
“From what? Us?”
Tommy stepped in closer. “From him.”
Arthur stared at him. And slowly, the fight bled out of his shoulders. “You should’ve told me,” he said.
Tommy nodded once. “I know.”
Arthur broke eye contact then, just for a second. Just long enough for Tommy to see it wasn’t anger fueling him, it was guilt. Shame.
“I saw her first, remember?” Arthur said, quieter now. “Told you to take the fuckin' coat for her to fix. Thought maybe… Maybe I liked her.” He laughed once, bitter and short.“Then I made them hand her over. Like she was nothing. And you let me.”
“I did,” Tommy said quietly. “I didn't know her before I took the coat for mending. But the moment I saw her... I knew.” He met Arthur’s gaze, steady. “I thought I could make her part of the game, then protect her from it.” A breath... "Didn't stop me from making her mine before I ever had the right to.”
Arthur stared at him for a long moment. His shoulders didn’t rise, his fists didn’t clench. It might’ve been the most honest thing he'd ever said to his older brother. And that made it worse somehow.
Dropping his gaze, Arthur gave a short, bitter laugh.“Well, fuck me, Tom. That’s what this is, then. You thought you'd cash in that wager and you fuckin' fell for her. I fuckin' knew it. You’ve gone soft.”
Tommy didn’t answer right away. Just let the silence answer for him.
“Should’ve seen it earlier.” Arthur shook his head, brow furrowing.“You’ve been off lately. Head not in the game like it usually is. Always rushing off somewhere.”
Tommy said nothing, let him get it all out.
“You really pissed me off, y’know. Put me through it. Let me think I’d done something that I didn't want to live with. Let me stew in it while you sat on the truth.” Arthur glanced over, not looking for an apology, just recognition. “Even got my name dragged through the muck... But at the end of this game, I come out of this in better shape than you, brother.”
Tommy had been the one to orchestrate the wager. And now? Now he was the one who stood to lose the most. He'd be left with the ashes of the life he’d tried to build on a lie. And the worst part was…he’d known from the start. He just thought he could outpace the damage. Like always.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Arthur moved toward the door. “You planning to marry her?”
Tommy's his voice was soft. “If she’ll have me.”
"You'd fuckin' better." Arthur let out a breath and half-smirked, though there was no amusement in it. “She fixes my shirts for free now, you know.”
Tommy watched as Arthur stepped out the door.
“Don’t cock this up, Tom.”
***
The light was bleeding out of the sky when Liam found him. Tommy was in the garden, cigarette tucked between his lips. His coat draped over his shoulders, boots planted in the damp earth. The air smelled like soil and cooling stone. It was one of those rare, still moments that felt suspended in time. He'd been speaking with the men he had guarding his house, cautioning them to be on high alert as the situation with Sean O'Grady continued to escalate.
He heard Liam’s boots on the gravel before the man in front of him could answer. Tommy knew by the pace it wasn’t good news. Walking towards Liam, his man he'd been speaking with knew to walk away, to give them privacy.
“He’s getting ready,” Liam said without preamble. “Didn’t go to work today. I've seen him everywhere O'Grady has been. One hand always near his pocket.”
Tommy didn’t need to ask who. “Rory.”
Liam nodded once. “Looks like he's meaning to finish something.”
Tommy took a slow drag, exhaled. His mind began pulling threads, tying them together with practiced ease. O'Grady. The bruised mother. The quiet rage he'd seen in the boy. It was all coming to a head now.
He flicked the cigarette into the grass and turned. “I’ll handle it.”
The streets were quiet, but not silent as the night dropped its dark veil over Small Heath. Distant voices drifted from open pub doors, muffled by the fog curling low along the cobblestones. Gas lamps burned soft and yellow, casting long shadows through alleyways that had seen too much and forgotten nothing.
Tommy moved with purpose, his coat collar up, steps soundless beneath him. He knew these streets better than he knew most people. Knew the corners where boys became men too fast. Knew the alleys where secrets were buried beneath the weight of silence and soot. Tonight, he knew exactly where to look.
What Polly said about the mother’s injuries was true and she’d moved the woman to a safehouse while O’Grady was at work, no questions asked. Rory had to be on the edge of his sanity right now. He’d lived under the shadow of a man like Sean O’Grady. A man who punished weakness and hit women, and still dared to look himself in the mirror.
Rory knew what bruises meant, what silence meant, just like he knew what it felt like to be powerless against it. Of course he was going to snap. Tommy wasn’t going to let the boy do something that would cost him everything. Not when he’d come this far and still had something to save.
He spotted Rory just before the lad noticed him. His back was pressed to the brick wall behind the narrow side alley. The rundown pub he watched that was the Garrison's biggest competition. According to Liam, it was where O'Grady spent significant time. But his stepson was coiled tight as a spring, watching as people came and went. His chest rose fast, like he’d been running even though he hadn’t moved an inch. One hand was tucked deep into his coat pocket.
Tommy didn’t have to guess what was in there. A knife, maybe. A revolver. Something that made him feel stronger than he was.
Tommy stepped out of the shadows, not caring that the gravel crunched beneath his boots. No need to sneak up on someone ready to explode.
“Revenge looks different in your head than it does after.” Tommy’s voice came low from the shadows, calm but heavy.
Rory flinched, spinning on his heel to face him, his hand twitching in his pocket. But he managed to stop himself. He recognized Tommy's voice. Just maybe he even expected to hear it.
“Mr. Shelby?” the boy snapped, his voice sharp, defensive. “You followed me?”
“Didn’t have to.” Tommy stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “Word is you didn’t show at the factory today."
Rory didn’t answer right away, but the set of his jaw spoke loud enough.
“Your mother’s safe,” Tommy added quietly. “He’ll come home to an empty house and no one left to scream at. Things will get worse before they get better."
The boy’s eyes flicked away, not in fear, but in barely restrained fury. “Then maybe it’s time someone made him afraid,” Rory muttered.
Tommy studied him for abeat, watching the way those words shook in the boy’s chest—less bravado, more truth. A quiet kind of desperation that came from years of being unable to fight back. And now the leash was off.
“He beat her.” His voice cracked on the words, just slightly. “Again. My mum. Our mum. She can't even walk. She can't draw a breath without it hurtin'. And you’re still letting him walk around like nothing happened.”
Tommy said nothing. Just watched. Measured the fear and fury in Rory’s voice, the way he stood—not broken, but right on the edge. And to his credit, Rory hadn't said a word to anyone. Tommy would have known if he had.
“You moved my mum like you moved my sister? And Mum wasn’t the only one he laid hands on,” Rory added, louder now. “And I’m sick of it. I’m sick of sitting around waiting for someone else to fix it.”
Tommy’s jaw clenched.There it was. Confirmation of what he’d suspected. Proof. Not just bruises passed off in silence or pain hidden behind quiet eyes.O’Grady had hurt her. The girl he held at night like a promise he hadn’t made yet. And for one blistering second, all Tommy wanted was to rip through the dark and put a bullet between the bastard’s eyes.
But not yet. That was anger talking, and he couldn’t afford to act on fury. Not when Rory was hanging on the edge, and the next move needed to be precise. So he pushed it down. Buried it. For now.
But the rage stayed lit, banked like a fire he fully intended to let burn.
“So you thought you’d do it yourself?” Tommy asked, tilting his head slightly. “Just wait for him to walk out and put him in the ground?”
“If I have to.”
“And then what, Rory?” he asked, keeping his voice low and even. “Let's say you get your vengeance. Think you get to go home after that?”
Rory’s lip curled, but his eyes flickered.
“You think your mother will be better off?" Tommy went on. What would it do to her to bury her husband and her son in the same week? She wouldn’t mourn him,” Tommy muttered. “But she’d still lose.”
Realization struck the lad then, Tommy recognized it. Because he knew that feeling all too well, had carried it for years. That sharp, breathless knowledge that the people you love…they don’t survive your choices. Even if they live, they don’t survive them. Tommy saw a younger version of himself in Rory. He saw the hero he'd desperately wanted to be before France, the smoke and medals and blood. Rory was who he'd been before he learned what it meant to lose everything in the name of doing what felt right.
And in that moment, Tommy didn’t see a threat. He saw someone worth saving. “Alright,” he said quietly. “So let’s make sure you don’t lose anything tonight.”
Rory met his gaze, startled. Not because he didn’t want to believe it, but because part of him hadn’t expected anyone to offer him another way.
Tommy stepped closer, his tone shifting just slightly, less steel now, more weight. “There are other ways to fight men like him. Smarter ways. You’ve got more in you than swinging a blade in the dark and hoping for the best.” He paused, watching the boy take it in. “You want to protect your mother?” he asked. “Protect your sister?”
Rory’s nod was immediate. Fierce.
“Then be something more than his murderer,” Tommy said. “Be useful to me.” The words weren’t a threat. They were a door and one not offered lightly. “You’re sharp. Loyal. And you’ve seen enough of this world to understand what it takes to survive it.”
Rory hesitated. “Doing what?”
“You’ll learn.” He didn’t need to say more.
Rory understood what the offer was. It was a bargain with the devil, but still a chance. For someone like him, it could be everything. Or it could be the beginning of the end for him.
“I’m not like him,” the boy said hoarsely.
Tommy’s tone softened, just slightly. “Then prove it.”
Rory didn’t answer right away. But Tommy saw the shift in him. In the way his shoulders eased, the way his hand drifted just slightly from the pocket where the knife or gun was hidden. He didn’t say yes. But he wasn’t saying no either. And that was enough for now.
Tommy turned slightly and gestured down the street. Reaching out, he rested a firm hand on his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”
They fell into step side by side, and it was quiet except for the steady sound of boots against wet stone. The night pressed in around them, thick and damp with smoke and fog, but it didn’t feel as heavy now. Tommy lit a cigarette, taking a drag and exhaling smoke slowly into the cold. Rory’s steps were heavier now, the weight of what he almost did hanging off his shoulders like a soaked coat.
They reached the block where Rory lived. It was one of those narrow, leaning rows near the canal with chipped stone steps and windows that always seemed dim, even in the light of day.
Rory stopped at the foot of the stairs. He stared at the door like it might open on an answer he didn’t have. “My mum and my sister…” he said after a long pause. “They’re all I’ve got left, Mr. Shelby.”
Tommy just listened.
“And I don’t even know if they’re safe.” Rory blew out an exhale. He finally looked over, meeting Tommy’s eyes head-on. “I’m trusting you. But I don’t know what that buys me or them.”
Rory’s hand hovered at the doorknob, the light from inside spilling just enough to catch the tension still coiled in his shoulders.
“Think about what I said,” Tommy told him, voice low.“This part’s almost over. After that… you’ll have a choice.”
Rory nodded once, then slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click that felt heavier than it should’ve.
It buys you me, Rory. That’s the trade.
Turning to walk back up the mist-soaked street, Tommy's thoughts grew darker. The part of his plan that was almost done? That was for Rory. For his mother who Sean O’Grady had broken. For his sister who now slept in Tommy’s bed.
For Tommy, it was just the beginning. He’d waited long enough. And now, he was going to deal with Sean O’Grady in a way that didn’t just end the problem, but satisfied the quiet, cold part of him that still wanted everything.
But as he walked deeper into the fog, doubt stalked him like a shadow he couldn’t shake.
His girl was going to find out what he'd done. And when she did, it wouldn’t matter how gentle he’d been after. Wouldn’t matter that he’d kept her close, or tried to make it right. She’d remember how it started. She’d remember the price her mother paid for his plans.
Revenge was simple, easy. The truth was messy, sharp, and inevitable. And when it finally surfaced, that’s when the real war would begin.
***
The house was mostly dark when Tommy returned. No lamps burned in the hallway except for the one flickering low in the sitting room. Somewhere upstairs, doors were shut, people asleep.
But she was still awake. He heard the rhythmic clatter of the sewing machine before he saw her, a soft, steady sound like a heartbeat echoing in the quiet.
Tommy stepped into the doorway of the sitting room and stopped. There she was, seated near the window with its curtains drawn, working in the low golden light of the lamp. Her brow was slightly furrowed in concentration, lower lip caught gently between her teeth, fingers guiding fabric with care. A man’s shirt lay across her lap.
“Still at it?” he asked, voice rougher than he intended.
She looked up, smiling when she saw him. “Fixing the cuffs on Arthur’s shirts,” she said lightly. “Only now I’m doing it for free.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, a breath of something like laughter caught in his throat. “Did he mention that?”
She nodded, returning to her stitching for a moment before adding, “Said it like I’d lost my mind. ‘Still don’t know why you’re fixin’ shirts for free. Must be mad,’ I think were his exact words.”
Her imitation of Arthur was surprisingly good. It had just enough gruffness to earn a real smirk from Tommy. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a softened gaze. “He’s not wrong.”
She glanced up again, brow raised, just slightly teasing. “And yet here I am.”
Tommy’s chest pulled tight—not from guilt this time, but something quieter. The fact that she was here, doing something kind for Arthur of all people, after everything… It told him more about her than she probably meant to reveal. It told him she still had kindness left in her.
He took a step forward, his voice low now. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug, but there was a tenderness in her voice when she replied, “Didn’t have to. I wanted to. He apologized.”
Tommy nodded, slowly. That settled something in his chest. Not everything, but something. Arthur had tried. And she’d let him. That was a kind of peace Tommy hadn’t expected. And it made him even more certain that she was worth the risk.
His coat was still buttoned, gloves tucked into one pocket. He hadn’t taken a breath all evening that didn’t taste like smoke and tension.
“Have you eaten?” she asked gently.
He shook his head. “Not hungry.”
His mind wouldn’t slow. Wouldn’t let him sit still long enough to want anything. Too many things were moving beneath the surface. O'Grady. Rory. Her. Always her.
Should he tell her tonight? Would it shatter the fragile thing they’d built in the quiet hours between regret and routine? Would it break everything, the trust, the comfort, the softness she’d started to show him in slivers, even if she didn’t mean to? Or was it better to let her believe she was just drifting here, a passenger in a storm she never agreed to ride out?
The truth was coming, and when it did, it wouldn’t just knock. It would rip the bloody fucking doors off their hinges. Would she still be standing with him when the dust settled?
"That’s enough for tonight,” he said, the words quiet but firm.
She didn't hesitate. She nodded before carefully folding the shirt, setting it aside. Rising from her seat, she stretched and her neck and back had to be aching from sitting there for hours. As he watched, she walked past him without flinching, with no fear. That quiet trust gutted him.
Upstairs, the room they shared was dim but warm. She moved with gentle familiarity now. She wasn't claiming the space, but no longer afraid of it either. She peeled off her day dress, still one of Ada's, and changed into her nightclothes in silence, her back to him. Not hiding, not flaunting. She was just existing.
He removed his coat, tossed it over the chair. His tie. His waistcoat and shirt. Even so, he still felt heavy.
She climbed into the bed and pulled the blankets up, lying on her back. She looked tired, probably at that machine most of the day. But it was different. The shadows behind her eyes had faded. She had something in her day to help her hold her fears and worries at bay. He envied her that.
Tommy sat on the edge of the mattress, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He didn’t want her tonight—not in the way men wanted women. He just wanted her close. Because something in his gut said this wouldn’t last. That a reckoning was coming. And when it did, he didn’t know if she’d stay.
He pulled off his boots, then slid beneath the covers. She didn’t move away. Tommy reached for her, one arm looping around her waist, pulling her into him. She tucked herself close, her back to his chest, her hand over his. She was warm and soft. Real. Tommy pressed his face into her hair and closed his eyes. Just a moment, he let himself pretend she was his without condition. That there was no plan. No lies. No secrets.
Just her.
Tommy held her tighter until her breathing evened out into the cadence of sleep. Because he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to.
@outlanderuniverse @alyssajunelle @gothic-chinadoll @sparda1234 @mrsnms @alexakeyloveloki @theinheriteddutchess @wiseyouthingluencer @lovinglimerence
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teammate (18+)



twitchstreamer!luke x reader
part one | part two
author’s note: holy shit it’s been a whole YEAR since part two. i’m back baybeeee. only because of all the very very nice comments and messages that motivated me to get back into writing. thank you all <3 dedicated to @thatbird-fromrio because their message today is the only reason I finished this haha.
title is from the song teammate by the ready set. lyrics are HALF relevant. progress !
without further ado…. The Streamer Awards!!
tags/warnings: smut MDNI 18+, semi-public, dirty talk😳, roughness, pet names, lowkey getting caught, use of y/n, kinda long, not proofread sorry for any errors!!
The moment Luke’s Instagram post went live, your phone had practically exploded.
Notifications poured in—likes, comments, tags, DMs from people you hadn’t spoken to in years. You’d spent the rest of your anniversary dinner blissfully ignoring it, choosing instead to focus on Luke, the wine, the way his fingers traced idle patterns over your knuckles between courses, and the heat blossoming between your legs.
But now, two weeks later, the reality of going public was about to hit its biggest test yet.
The Streamer Awards.
You’d seen clips of it in previous years—the red carpet, the flashing cameras, the interviews, the screaming fans. And now, you were going to be walking it. With Luke.
~~~~
The morning of the Streamer Awards, you woke up to the sound of something crashing and breaking in the kitchen, followed by an indignant little “…Oops.” from Percy Jackson. You blinked awake, momentarily confused until everything came crashing back you to like a wave.
The Streamer Awards were tonight. The venue they were taking place at was closest to Luke’s house, so he’d invited his friends to stay over and get ready together for the big event. It was going to be your first public appearance with Luke, now that you’d officially announced your relationship to his millions of fans and followers. It was nice to have the moral support of Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and Thalia, as well. As chaotic as they were.
Really, you were going to be the moral support to all of them tonight, especially Luke. They were all nominated for at least one award. Luke was nominated for Streamer of the Year, the most prestigious award of the evening. You had no doubt in your mind that he would win, even if he was up against the most popular streamers in the world right now. He deserved it, and his fans were batshit crazy enough to make it happen.
You stretched your hand across the bed, feeling for Luke’s familiar warmth, only to find him absent. You only had to wonder for a brief moment where he was, before you heard his booming voice from the kitchen: “Percy, I swear to God if that was my bong—“
Bong? You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and sat up, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It powered on and the time 12:18pm flashed at you. Your eyes widened, your heart beat stuttering in your chest. Only 5 hours until you had to leave for the red carpet. Shit. Talk about nerve-wracking.
“It wasn’t the bong but it was lowkey maybe that bottle of Patron—“
“Percy!”
“—but it’s fine! We picked up the big chunks of glass and now Grover’s licking up the spillage so none gets wasted!”
Annabeth, blessed voice of reason, finally spoke up: “I don’t know how either of you are still alive.”
You laughed and finally pushed yourself out of bed, searching the large bedroom for wherever you clothes ended up last night. You pulled on your sleep shorts and one of Luke’s T-shirts from the dresser drawer before beelining to the bathroom. After freshening up, you went out to the kitchen and found nothing short of a disaster zone.
It looked like Luke’s kitchen and living room had turned into the aftermath of a frat party. Or an AirBNB during a vacation of 15 friends. There was alcohol and weed paraphernalia sprawled along the island. Clothes, bags, shoes, and makeup were littered everywhere. Percy and Grover were, in fact, on the kitchen floor, cleaning up their mess. Thalia and Annabeth had claimed the floor length mirror in the living room as their get ready zone and were working on each other’s hair. Luke was by the oven, seemingly cooking actual food for once.
“Morning,” You said, as everyone greeted you. “Any reason why we’re pregaming so early?”
“Many reasons!” Percy announced, jumping from his spot on the floor to throw an arm over your shoulder. You suppressed a laugh as he continued, “One! Awards shows are a nightmare. Yes, it’s fun to be nominated and watch and see people you don’t normally see ever leaving their houses, but it’s a lot. Lots of cameras. Lots of talking. Lots of nerves.”
You met Luke’s eyes from across the kitchen. He was clenching his jaw. He knew you were nervous enough as is. You’d joked last night about maybe skipping the event for the sake of your sanity and it had really hurt Luke’s feelings. The last thing he wanted was anymore reasons for you to back out last minute.
Percy went on, oblivious to this exchange, “Two! It’s been a while since we all hung out just us and we want to have fun. Three, and the most important — the after party. That stupid prick Octavian Augur is hosting this year and I’ll be damned if I’m not blackout before arrival.”
“Jesus,” You laughed, running a hand through your hair. “Sounds like we’re in for a great night of babysitting you, PJ.”
Luke smiled, catching on to your words. You were going. And honestly, with each passing minute, and Percy’s antics… the nerves were fading into excitement.
~~~~
Getting ready was a blast. After everyone ate a decent amount of food to cushion the impending onslaught of booze, the fun began. Annabeth played music from her speaker. Percy and Grover helped each other tie their ties for over half an hour. Thalia helped you with your makeup, making sure your eyeliner was sharp and pristine.
Luke had paid some random stylist to buy outfits for the both of you. He was wearing a gorgeous suit, tailored perfectly to his built physique. The sight of him so dressed up had your heart racing and your thighs squeezing together subconsciously. He was so hot it was unreal.
For you, the stylist had picked out a glittering golden gown. It was floor length, with a high slit running all the way to your hip, and loose off-the-shoulder sleeves. You’d never worn anything so beautiful or fancy in your life. Paired with heels and some of your favourite jewelry, you looked like the only place you belonged was on a red carpet.
When you first stepped out of the bedroom all prepared and ready to go, Luke’s cheeks turned red.
“Damn, angel…” He whispered, sauntering forward and placing his warm hands on your hips. “Maybe we should just stay home together…”
You laughed, knowing he was joking, despite the hunger flaring in his dark eyes. “Down, boy. We have plenty of time for that later.”
He pouted. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
Thalia gagged. “God, you are such a simp. The Uber’s here, let’s go!”
Luke pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, barely having to lean down now that you were wearing heels. “We got this, baby.”
You let the butterflies erupt in your chest as you smiled up at him. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or his hand in yours, but for the first time tonight, you believed him.
~~~~
The red carpet loomed ahead of you. On the left, there was a black backdrop, showcasing logos of various sponsors of the event. On the right, sectioned off by a velvet rope, was a hoard of photographers and fans lucky enough to get early access to the show. At the end of the red carpet, two streamers you didn’t know all that well called Connor and Travis, were doing interviews with all of the nominees for the night.
Luke squeezed your hand in silent encouragement. “We walk, pause for pictures, walk a bit more, quick two minute interview, and then we’re good to find our seats. It’ll be over before you know it.”
You nodded quickly, watching as Percy and Annabeth walked ahead on to the carpet after receiving their cue. They held hands and smiled brightly for pictures. Annabeth kissed Percy’s cheek and the amount of camera flashes tripled, fans in the crowd going wild. Your stomach did a nervous flip.
Thalia poked your back. “Hey, you’re shaking.”
“It’s the heels,” You lied. “I’m used to my Vans.”
“Percy bet me twenty bucks you’d trip and fall.” Grover said, with a teasing smirk.
Your stomach flipped again.
Thalia whacked his arm. “Remember your first red carpet? You stuttered through the interview and then threw up in the fake plant?”
Grover winced. “Trust me, Thals, I have nightmares every night.”
“Was your first red carpet bad, too?” You asked, glancing at Thalia, who only ever expressed pure confidence and charisma.
“No. But only because I was used to the spotlight. My dad’s Zeus Grace, remember?” Thalia explained, squaring her shoulders.
Oh, right. Thalia’s dad was a famous CEO of some corporate company. She’d done tons of photo shoots and had a steady fanbase long before she took up streaming.
“Luke’s first red carpet was fine though,” She continued, rubbing your shoulder. “Yours will be, too. You got this!”
You gave her a grateful smile before turning back around, wrapping your arm around Luke’s muscular bicep. Up ahead, Percy and Annabeth were approaching the interview section. The event coordinator next to you gave you a cue to start walking down the carpet.
Gasps, cheers, clapping — tons of camera flashes — photographers shouting: “Luke! Look here! Smile! Give us a kiss!”
You blushed and leaned into Luke’s towering frame, trying your best to remember some poses Annabeth and Thalia had coached you on earlier in the day. They had forgot to mention how blinding all the camera flashes could be, coupled with the bright overhead lights. You couldn’t see anything. And honestly, that was fine — it made the whole experience feel so surreal, like you were in a dream and your face and appearance and poses didn’t matter. You could feel Luke’s warmth radiating into your side and that was grounding enough.
He placed a kiss to the top of your head, lacing your fingers together. “Perfect,” Luke said, loud enough only you could hear. “You are perfect.”
Both of you made your way down the rest of the carpet, the photographers and fans turning their attention to Thalia who began strutting down the red carpet.
Percy and Annabeth wrapped up their interview and walked inside, not before spinning around and giving you and Luke an encouraging thumbs up.
Connor and Travis, known better by their shared twitch handle “StollBros” sized you up as you approached.
“Luke Castellan, brother! My man!” Connor said, clapping Luke on the shoulder as he shook hands with Travis. You noticed there were four cameras pointed at the interview station. Connor and Travis were both wearing wrist straps that held phones, showing only a twitch chat flying through messages. Right. The red carpet was being streamed on twitch, too. The phones allowed them to read any comments or questions from fans in the chat.
“Connor, Travis,” Luke said, his hand finding the small of your back in a show of comfort. “Good to see you both. And this is Y/N, my lovely girlfriend and beautiful date for the evening.”
God, he was so charming. You couldn’t help but smile and blush at his words, politely nodding to Connor and Travis.
“Beautiful is correct,” Travis said, eyeing you up and down. You giggled and did a little twirl, showing off your stunning down. Travis had to ask, “Are you sure Luke is the one you want? Luke SonofHermes Castellan? The same guy that uses 24-in-1 soap for cleaning and cooking?”
“That’s a rumor!” Luke interrupted, causing everyone to laugh.
“Don’t worry, I told his fans I took him to Sephora the other day. Luke’s got an actual skincare routine now.” You replied, feeling comfortable around the goofy brothers.
Connor glanced at the twitch chat on his wrist. “The fans are dying to know, Y/N — is Boner Theory true?”
Luke’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh my God. I hate my fans.”
You nudged his side. “You don’t hate them, come on. But I’m not gonna answer that ‘cause I think it’s the funniest theory on the Internet right now.”
“Y/N~” Luke groaned, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter. “You’re gonna egg them on.”
“Good!” You teased with a grin.
Luke couldn’t help himself — he leaned down and kissed you right on the mouth. It was just a quick peck but still. It was in front of millions of viewers. Even Connor and Travis shared an amused look.
“Well guys, we’ll let you both go ahead inside. Luke, good luck tonight! Streamer of the Year’s the biggest award of the night!” Connor announced, giving Luke a fist bump.
“And Y/N,” Travis said, dramatically bowing and placing a kiss to the back of your hand, “It was a pleasure to meet you.”
~~~~
A man dressed like a butler asked for your names and then directed your group to your table near the front. The tables in the venue were circular, decorated with flowers and candles and nameplates for each guest. You sat between Luke and Thalia, with Percy, Grover, and Annabeth also at your table, of course. You glanced around the room at other seats, noticing streamers and some celebrities you actually recognized. Fans were also able to score tickets, and had their seats in the balcony above. You noticed some fans waving in your general direction and you offered a small smile, knowing there’s no way they were waving at you.
Luke kept one hand clasped in yours the entire time. He was always so calm, cool, and collected, it was interesting seeing him nervous. You knew that meant he really, really cared about this award. As he should — he worked hard everyday and made so many sacrifices to get to the level of popularity that he was at. He cared deeply about his fanbase and wanted to make them happy everyday. If Luke didn’t win Streamer of the Year, you’d riot.
Streamer of the Year was the last award of the night as it was the most anticipated, so there was probably a good two or three hours before Luke would be called on stage. He needed to relax a bit before then, or he’d spontaneously combust. Luke had already downed his drink and was tapping his foot anxiously, glancing around and smiling at some friends or nodding along to the intermission music playing.
You decided to do something a little risky, a little out of your comfort zone, to help ease his nerves.
You kicked off one of your high heels and began slowly dragging your toes down his calf. Leaning over, you pressed a delicate kiss to his neck, relishing in the hitch of his breath and the extra squeeze he gave your hand. “It’s alright, baby,” You whispered in his ear, trying to sound seductive. “No reason to be anxious.”
He met your eyes, cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah? You’re oddly calm for someone whose never been to an event this size before.”
Luke’s hand slipped from your grasp as he angled himself to face you more, slowly caressing your exposed thigh from the slit in your dress. You giggled, biting your plump lower lip. “Well, the shots helped. And you help, too. Couldn’t do this without you, handsome.”
“Don’t get too confident, now.” Luke whispered, voice husky in your ear. His hand slipped just a bit higher, brushing the lacy trim of your thong, causing you to squirm. “We both know I’m the one in charge here.”
You were about to retaliate when Grover looked at you two from across the table and gasped, “Keep it in your pants, you freaks! There’s cameras everywhere.”
Luke laughed as you ducked your head, giggling quietly. Little did your friends know, the fear of getting caught in the act was something you and Luke fooled around with often. Hence that time you blew him on stream.
Annabeth rolled her eyes bemusedly. “The show starts in like, twenty minutes, you know. You have time.”
Percy guffawed. “Time for what?”
“I’ll take it.” Luke announced, standing from his chair. You blushed and took his hand as he lead you back out to the lobby of the venue.
It was still pretty busy, with guests arriving, cameramen, photographers, and fans being directed to seats. You scanned the room looking for a closet, or something. Luke, still taller than you despite the heels, seemed to see an opportunity above the crowd and pulled you along towards a hallway.
After a few twists and turns, the noise of the lobby began to fade. There was a smaller washroom down this hallway, away from the ones everyone else knew about and used. It was empty and quiet inside. Luke tugged you into one of the stalls just to be safe, locking it behind the both of you.
Without a beat of hesitation, his lips were on yours, shoving you back onto the stall door. His hands worked quickly to bunch your dress up around your hips, exposing the milky flesh of your thighs. He kept the dress bunched in one fist and used his other hand to trail a finger down your pussy, still covered by your lacy thong.
“Fuck…” Luke groaned, pulling away from your swollen lips. “You’re dripping already. Needy girl.”
“Luke,” you whimpered, his touch causing heat to pool dangerously in your core. “Please…”
“Please what, angel?” Luke teased, nipping at your jaw. “Touch you? Fuck you? In this public bathroom, where anyone could walk in—“
Saying those words, Luke tore the lace down your legs and hastily plunged two of his thick fingers into your aching cunt. The pain and the pleasure mixed together had you moaning loud, knees buckling under the pressure. Your back arched against the cool metal of the stall door, a gasp tumbling from your lips.
“Greedy cunt.” Luke murmured, sucking the skin above your breast, fucking his fingers into you at a ruthless pace. His hot breath hit your ear. “Imagine someone walked in and saw you right now. The innocent, pretty girl in the pretty dress getting finger fucked in the bathroom? Oh, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I bet it’d make you come all over my hand—“
“Luke!” You cried, the familiar pressure building in your gut. He pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles to the sensitive nub. “I’m gonna—“
Before you could finish, Luke withdrew his fingers from your folds, leaving you clenching around nothing. You fumed. Luke chuckled at your expression, watching the clear fluid stretch from your core to his fingers. He brought the digits up to your mouth, and you knew from experience already he wanted you to suck. You did, lapping at the salty taste of yourself, watching his pupils blow wide at the sight. “Clean ‘em up nice and good so no one knows what we were doing in here. Gotta be presentable, don’t we, baby?”
You nodded along to his words, hoping that didn’t mean he was going to edge you and leave you legitimately dripping all night long. Thankfully, after pulling his wet fingers from your mouth, he began fumbling with his belt buckle. Luke pulled his pants down just enough to free his massive, hard cock, precum beading on the top. Your mouth began to water.
“Up, angel, up,” He cooed, hands under your ass as he lifted you in the air. You wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him close to your core.
Right as you sunk down onto his thick length with a quiet gasp, the bathroom door opened.
“See, I told you there was another bathroom down here.”
“Thank God, if I had to wait in line even a minute longer I would’ve died. I just want to touch up my makeup for God’s sake.”
You eyes locked onto Luke’s, both of you sporting matching horrified expressions. Your legs were in air, wrapped tightly around Luke’s torso. It was only a matter of time before these two girls saw Luke’s legs from below the stall and deduced someone was inside the bathroom with them. At least they’d only see one person, not two.
The thought of getting caught sent a thrill down your spine, causing your pussy walls to clench down hard around Luke’s cock. He grit his teeth and slowly, slowly pulled out of you —
only to ram back in at full force.
He slammed one of his hands on your mouth, pushing hard, begging you with his eyes not to make a singular sound. He held you up against the stall, suspended and impaled on his thick, veiny cock.
Outside, the girls continued talking, their heels clicking as they walked towards the sinks.
“Did you see Luke Castellan? He came in with his new girlfriend or whatever. She’s actually pretty. I didn’t think he had it in him.”
“Um, I think she’s the lucky one? Come on, have you seen Luke Castellan? He’s fucking hot.”
“He does have the aura of a guy who eats pussy with the devotion of a man starved.”
“Ugh, you’re so right. I should’ve made a move when I had my chance.”
Luke fucked into you again, bucking hard and causing you to see stars. It took all your mental focus not to scream and moan (and laugh at the girl’s conversation. Because they were right. God, were they right). Luke took his hand off your mouth, meeting your eyes again, silently ordering you to shut the fuck up. He then used this free hand to pull your tits out of your dress. Thankfully you had decided against wearing a bra. His mouth latched on to one of your nipples, biting down as he began fucking you at a steady pace, trying not to make a sound.
You held yourself up with one arm around his neck, using your other hand to finally touch your throbbing clit. The sensation was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, your head lolling back against the stall with a gentle thud.
Luckily, neither girls paid the sound any mind.
“I better win Streamer of the Year. Like, yeah, Luke’s great and popular and all, but he’s just a guy. I don’t think a girl’s won in years. And I do so much for the community.”
“So much.”
“And, you can’t tell anyone this, but I might’ve told Apollo if he, y’know, helped me out with the votes… I’d compensate him.”
“No way! You’d do that?”
“Yeah? Like I said, I deserve it the most.”
Something clicked in Luke’s brain. He must’ve finally recognized who the voice belonged to, and in doing so, quickened his pace with you. He kept one fist underneath you, clinging to your bunched up dressed and holding you up. He licked your other boob before meeting your mouth with his again, all tongue and teeth and no regret. You were being loud now, louder than you should’ve been. You were going to get caught. Your orgasm was building rapidly.
Caught, caught, caught —
Fuck! You mouthed, silent as a mouse as your orgasm crashed into you, powerful as ever. Luke continued fucking into you, letting you ride out your high. He came shortly after, biting down on your shoulder and screwing his eyes shut as he pumped his seed deep into your weeping cunt. You could feel him pulsating inside you, sending shivers up your spine.
“Wait, Drew, look — there’s someone in here!”
“What the fuck? Are you spying on us, creep?”
You suppressed another moan as Luke pulled out of you, and then helped you find your footing in the cramped stall. You grabbed a bundle of toilet paper and pressed it between your legs, cleaning up his release and the mess you’d made together.
“What the fuck?”
Luke snorted a laugh, straightening his suit and helping you with your dress. He swiped a thumb along your swollen lower lip, probably fixing your smudged makeup. He kissed your forehead, eyes gleaming with mischief, before he opened the stall door.
Standing at the sinks were Drew Tanaka and Silena Beauregard. You’d heard of them before, and watched some of their content — they mostly did IRL streams and get-ready-with-me’s. It was sort of surreal to see them in person. Especially after hearing their conversation about Luke.
“Drew. Silena.” Luke said with a polite nod, not trying at all to hide his satisfied smirk as he brushed passed them to the sink. You followed timidly, a searing blush building up from your chest to your cheeks.
“Were you two…” Silena trailed off, incredulous, at a loss for words. She blushed too. “Oh my God.”
“Couldn’t keep it in your pants for one night, Castellan?” Drew taunted, looking between the couple with an eye of disgust. You shrinked back a bit from her stare. She sounded so mean.
“Yeah, well, it can be our little secret!” Luke replied, reaching for a paper towel to dry his hands. Drew held her position, not moving out of the way. He continued, “Unless, of course, you want me to tell everyone about the fact you’re bribing the host for a win.”
Drew narrowed her eyes. “Like they’d believe you.”
“Like they’d believe you, spreading rumours about me when you’ve already caused enough drama in the streaming community.” Luke retorted, meeting her gaze.
You held your breath. Some sort of hostile stand off was happening and you had no idea how to react. Luckily, Silena Beauregard saw your nervous expression and offered you a kind smile. “You’re Y/N, right? Nice to meet you! Love the dress.”
“Uh… thanks?” You choked out, suddenly self aware of all the wrinkles in the satin of your gown, bestowed there by Luke’s strong grip.
“Anyways. Show’s about to start!” Luke said, wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders. “Try not to limp, angel.”
“Bye, Luke!” Silena said with a smile.
“Ugh.” Drew scoffed, giving you a dirty glare on your way out.
~~~~
“And the winner of the 2025 Streamer of the Year Award is…. SonOfHermes!”
Luke was frozen in shock at your side. You were equally as shocked — after the bathroom encounter, you had fully believed Draw Tanaka had conned her way to the top. But no, she didn’t win. Luke won. Your Luke. Streamer of the Year.
“Go, dude, go!” Percy cheered, helping Luke strand from his seat. Annabeth, Thalia, and Grover were also standing, clapping, cheering. You joined them, giving Luke a big hug and wet kiss on his cheek before gently shoving him in the direction of the stage.
All around you, the event venue had erupted into cheers from other streamers and fans alike. The presenter at the podium held out the ugly Pepe the Frog shaped trophy out to Luke as he took the stairs two at a time up to the stage. He took the award and gave the presenter a quick side hug before they left the stage, giving Luke his spotlight moment.
The cheering died down as Luke began his acceptance speech. You kept your hands clasped together under your chin, tears pinpricking your eyes as sheer joy and pride flooded over you. Luke’s grin was brighter than any spotlight, any camera flash.
“Firstly,” Luke began, speaking into the mic. “I gotta thank my wild ass fans, man. I wouldn’t be here without your constant support and love. Well, sometimes love. You guys really do love to bully me in chat.”
The crowd laughed. Your laugh sounded more like a choked sob, tears flowing freely down your eyes now. Thalia wrapped an arm around your shoulders and held you close.
“Secondly, I have to thank Y/N, which I only introduced to you all about two weeks ago.” Luke continued, meeting your gaze even though you were just one person in a large crowd. He made you feel like the centre of the universe. “We recently celebrated our one year anniversary. I love that girl with my whole heart and soul. She does so much for me behind the scenes which allows me to be my best self everytime I start a stream. Y/N, you’re everything to me. I love you.”
“Lastly, you know I gotta shoutout the homies. Percy, Grover, Annie, Thals — my streams wouldn’t be half as fun without your stupid shenanigans making it entertaining for everyone. Love you guys!”
Luke held the award up one last time as the crowd cheered again, giving him a standing ovation as he came back down to his seat. You gave him another big hug as he lifted you off your feet, planting a firm kiss to your lips.
Luke set you back down and chuckled. “You crying over me, baby?” He asked, rubbing his thumb under your eye, no doubt where your mascara had smudged.
“I’m really, really proud of you.” You replied, kissing his cheek tenderly. “And I love you, too. So much.”
The award ceremony continued, but for the rest of the night, Luke never let go of your hand. Not when Percy jokingly tried to steal the trophy, not when Thalia demanded a round of victory tequila shots, and not even when the after-party lights dimmed and the music pulsed through the venue.
As the celebration wound down, Luke pulled you close, his lips brushing your ear. “You know what the best part of tonight is?” he murmured.
You tilted your head, smiling. “The award?”
He shook his head, his thumb tracing circles on your hip. “Nah. It’s that I get to take you home.”
Your heart swelled as he kissed you again, slow and sweet, like he had all the time in the world.
And in that moment—surrounded by laughter, love, and the quiet hum of victory—you knew you made the right decision.
author’s note: hahaha holy shit I cannot believe I wrote all that oh my god. phew. part 4 anyone?
taglist: @hayacinthandlilies @cloudtato @lovelaurakinney
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I will always think Elphaba’s ending is more tragic than Glinda’s. Sure, she ran away with fiyero in the end, but there is no way they lived happily ever after
Elphaba was forced to surrender and run away in the end after the fight of her entire life was completely forced out of her. She lost her sister and her father and her only father figure. She can never see the one person that made the biggest difference in her life ever again. And she has to live with the fact that Glinda is suffering because of her “death” for the rest of her life.
Even if you look at the running away with fiyero aspect, it’s still a miserable ending. They can never come back to Oz. Elphaba spent 5 (?) years in the run and just when the battle is finally over (and she lost) she still can’t even live the rest of her life peacefully because obviously she and fiyero would have to hide anyways. A scarecrow and a green woman in the witch’s hat. There is nowhere else they can go.
Sure, Glinda ends up alone and without the one person that mattered to her, but at least when she dies she can die knowing that she did her absolute best to honor elphaba’s cause and (at least that’s how I interpret it) won the fight for the Animals. She can die knowing she accomplished something and that she honored Elphaba, while Elphaba will die without ever seeing her best friend again and never being able to live the rest of her life peacefully because she’s still a target and, if anyone knew, she would be in danger.
That’s why it ticks me off when people say stuff like Haha Elphaba ran away with the man in the end while Glinda suffered forever. How do you miss the point so bad. It’s a story about the love and connection between these two women and it ends up with them never being able to see each other again. It’s a tragedy in both sides.
#and in the end#Glinda is the one who gets a full arc#elphaba starts being ostracized and ends being ostracized#except now she has the guy that’s made of straw I guess#and everyone she loves is either dead or fully out of her reach#and fiyero is still a scarecrow LOL#this show makes me so miserable 😭#gelphie#wicked#elphaba thropp#glinda upland#galinda x elphaba#galinda upland#elphaba x galinda#elphaba x glinda#glinda x elphaba
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This is a long post, I'm so sorry. Something I’ve always struggled to wrap my head around is Voltron’s timeline — especially the widespread fan assumption that Keith spent a year in the desert. As far as I can tell, there’s zero canon support for that.
For example:
We know from Sam Holt that it takes two months to reach Kerberos. In Pidge’s flashback, the mission is officially declared a failure five months after launch. That implies the crew was kidnapped at the three-month mark, and the rescue team didn’t find them on arrival.
Let’s assume the Kerberos mission launched around April or May — Pidge is still 14 and in middle school, which supports a mid-year start. That puts the crew’s disappearance around August, with the mission declared a failure around September or October (which is also… peak Keith angst season, if it was October).
Now, Keith is impulsive, sure — but he’s not an idiot. He wouldn’t immediately drop out of the Garrison the second Shiro disappeared. If anything, he’d double down, knowing the Garrison was his best shot at figuring out what happened. It’s likely he held on at least until Shiro’s birthday or the end of the school year before he was either expelled or quit.
Canon says Shiro was held captive for about a year, which would mean he crash-lands back on Earth in July or August of the following year, at the beginning of the month. That lines up with the calendar we see in Keith’s shack.
And based on the U.S. school year (especially in Arizona — which the show seems to suggest based on the Blue Lion’s map trajectory and desert geography), the academic year starts in early August. Also, it wouldn’t make sense for Lance to be promoted mid-year. He’d logically start the Fighter Pilot course at the beginning of the school year. Another key detail that supports this timeline is Iverson’s dig at Lance in the very first episode — comparing him to Keith and saying, “You’re only here because the best pilot dropped out.” That line only lands if Keith’s absence is still fresh. If Lance had held the Fighter Pilot position for a full year, proving himself day in and day out, Iverson’s insult wouldn’t carry the same sting — because clearly, Lance would have earned his place by then, and Iverson's dig would fall flat. The fact that it hits so hard suggests the promotion is still new, the wound is still raw, and Lance is still trying to prove he deserves the spot.
Also, Pidge not recognising Keith further supports this timeline. If she started or transferred into the Garrison at the beginning of the new academic year, it makes total sense that she wouldn’t know who Keith is, especially since he’d already been expelled by then. These small character beats only make sense if we assume the simulation takes place at the start of a new term.
So basically: if we line everything up — the Kerberos launch, Shiro’s disappearance and return, the academic calendar, and Lance’s promotion — the evidence points to the opening simulation in Episode 1 being the first time the Garrison Trio works together. Lance and Hunk are clearly trying to bond with Pidge, which makes sense if they just met her. And the timeline doesn’t leave room for Keith to have been out in the desert for an entire year — more like a few months, max.
What are your thoughts?
hmmm that's very interesting... I'm gonna be honest and say I've never really thought about it before, but reading this made me very curious so I tried to find everything you're talking about here.
How long did Keith live in the shack for?
First,
We know from Sam Holt that it takes two months to reach Kerberos.
Well... Pidge says this in Episode 1:
[Season 1, Episode 1: The Rise of Voltron, 21:32]
and Sam says this in Pidge's flashback:
[Season 1, Episode 5: Tears of the Balmera, 03:20]
What I find curious though is that what Sam says implies that they will be eating peas for only two months, kind of implying that they'll be back to Earth after that and eat other stuff. Either that, or there is other food on Kerberos, but I don't know. Anyway, yes you're correct.
Next,
In Pidge’s flashback, the mission is officially declared a failure five months after launch.
[Season 1, Episode 5: Tears of the Balmera, 03:51]
Yup.
That implies the crew was kidnapped at the three-month mark
Well, to be fair, we don't know how long they were on Kerberos for when they were kidnapped. They could have just arrived or they could have been there for longer (not more than five months though). But alright, let's assume that they were kidnapped 3 months after launch.
and the rescue team didn’t find them on arrival.
Well, based on what Lance says here:
[Season 1, Episode 1: The Rise of Voltron, 02:17]
and what Pidge says here:
[Season 1, Episode 5: Tears of the Balmera, 04:21]
I don't think they actually sent a rescue mission, but rather declared them dead when their probes couldn't find anything. Lance's class training in the simulator for a rescue mission on Kerberos makes me think that they never sent a team, but rather trained the next generation to do it. They were going to send one eventually I think.
Canon says Shiro was held captive for about a year, which would mean he crash-lands back on Earth in July or August of the following year, at the beginning of the month. That lines up with the calendar we see in Keith’s shack.
[Season 1, Episode 1: The Rise of Voltron, 13:02]
Yup.
Also, it wouldn’t make sense for Lance to be promoted mid-year. He’d logically start the Fighter Pilot course at the beginning of the school year.
Yeah, I think you're right about that, because it also makes sense with what Pidge says here:
[Season 1, Episode 5: Tears of the Balmera, 09:49]
Let’s assume the Kerberos mission launched around April or May — Pidge is still 14 and in middle school, which supports a mid-year start. That puts the crew’s disappearance around August, with the mission declared a failure around September or October (which is also… peak Keith angst season, if it was October).
At first I thought it might have been a bit earlier than that, but yes, if Pidge, Lance and Hunk's training in the simulator is supposed to take place one year after their kidnapping not the declaration of failure, that would make sense.
Now, Keith is impulsive, sure — but he’s not an idiot. He wouldn’t immediately drop out of the Garrison the second Shiro disappeared. If anything, he’d double down, knowing the Garrison was his best shot at figuring out what happened. It’s likely he held on at least until Shiro’s birthday or the end of the school year before he was either expelled or quit.
I'm very sure Keith did not quit, because it is heavily implied that he was expelled due to "disciplinary issues" when Iverson says this:
[Season 1, Episode 1: The Rise of Voltron, 04:58]
and thanks to the flashbacks in season 7, we know that Keith is likely to start fights, because he starts a fight after they call him a "discipline case", implying that his discipline issue is mostly his temper:
[Season 7, Episode 1: A Little Adventure, 03:26]
[Season 7, Episode 1: A Little Adventure, 10:54]
Keith himself also says he was "booted" which means thrown out, and not "left" or anything like that:
[Season 1, Episode 1: The Rise of Voltron, 13:09]
So, Keith was most likely expelled due to a fight. Whether that was with Iverson or with some kid who was talking shit, I can't say, cause we never saw it. It's also likely he had a large disagreement with Iverson and he was told to leave the Garrison. But again, idk, cause we never get this clarified.
But yes, it is very likely that this didn't happen immediately. I can't say for how long though. Until they declared it after the kidnapping, it's already less than a year (3 months if we take your assumption), so max. if Keith was expelled immediately after they announced it, he would have only lived in the shack for 9 months. I do think it's more like mid-school-year though, since then Lance would have time to apply for the Fighter Pilot position and basically work his way up, but this is a bit unclear.
If Lance had held the Fighter Pilot position for a full year, proving himself day in and day out, Iverson’s insult wouldn’t carry the same sting — because clearly, Lance would have earned his place by then, and Iverson's dig would fall flat. The fact that it hits so hard suggests the promotion is still new, the wound is still raw, and Lance is still trying to prove he deserves the spot.
yes I agree.
Also, Pidge not recognising Keith further supports this timeline. If she started or transferred into the Garrison at the beginning of the new academic year, it makes total sense that she wouldn’t know who Keith is, especially since he’d already been expelled by then.
Keith definitely was expelled by the time Pidge starts at the Garrison.
All in all, your logic is solid, and so is your evidence! Keith most likely only spent a few months at the shack after being booted from the Garrison, not a whole year! I think the reason people say it's a year, is that the show tells us a year has passed since Shiro's kidnapping, and it's sort of the only time-frame we have. But yeah, this was fun!
#asks#voltron#vld#voltron analysis#keith kogane#sorry it took me so long to answer i had to find all the evidence you mentioned!#most likely Keith was only at the shack for a couple of months. If I had to guess#i'd say 4-5 months but definitely 7 months max.
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MORE UPDATES ON OLDER INFO + SPECULATIONS
sorry for being late with this, was super busy!! sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes. please read the links below for an extra refreasher and context.
full breakdown post on the situation: HERE
emma’s comments + her denial
recap: emma (aka podcast girl) was actively commenting under a tiktok that talked about the drama. people started saying she herself denied it was about the hughes brothers... but no one ever posted screenshots to back that up. i found out that she indeed say herself it wasn't the hughes... wanted to include this because i know this was one of the main comments people were looking for.
^ i still stand with what i've said before regarding her deleting all the comments and even denying it. comes off that she just realized she doing too much with entertaining the drama to begin with.
post regarding all her other now deleted comments: HERE
the smolinski family connection
recap: emma mentioned she has a family friend (assumed to be the smolinski's) whose brother (assumed to be max) is friends with the “youngest brother” (assumed to be luke).
i made a post HERE in the regards of emma being family friends with the smolinski's, who are close to the hughes family + the topic of their brother max... and now here is some extra confirmation... luke and max are indeed good friends.


so now ive seemed to have added up 2 out of the 2 things mentioned by emma:
1. her being family friends with the smolinskis, and 2. their son being friends with luke.
more with the smolinski siblings...
when i first released a post about all this drama, which was about a week and a bit ago, i saw that all 3 of the older siblings were following emma. then, during the midst of the drama, after a couple of days of everything blowing up, someone noticed that one of them unfollowed her (@/ashysmoke) in the midst of this drama… just another suspicious thing noticed...
^ to be factual here i do know their is 4 smolinski siblings all together. 3/4 are adults and contribute to the story, the youngest one has not been mentioned since she’s a kid and has no involvement, anyways.


sasha x luke situation
recap: emma said her best friend (allegedly sasha) had a “thing” with the “youngest brother” (assumed luke). she said he had been hitting her up for a while, they hooked up, and her friend was hooked on him. she never gave exact dates, timelines, or said where this all happened.
what people are questioning and doubting?
people are mainly questioning and doubting the timeline and logistics of the alleged fling/situationship between sasha and luke specifically:
the timing of their mutuals status: some are skeptical because luke and sasha only followed each other on social media around november–december 2024. since emma’s story implied the fling lasted a while like at least a year, people think a 4–5 month mutual timeline doesn’t match up. but that assumption ignores the fact that many people in low-key flings or situationships don’t follow each other publicly right away, or ever.
someone sent me this too:

location gaps
some people think that because sasha is from detroit and attends school in alabama, it would make it impossible for her and luke to meet up. but when you break it down, that argument doesn’t hold much validity.
first off, emma's description of the situation suggested that the fling or situationship between sasha and luke was more text/social media-based. it sounds like their hookup was more of a one-time thing, rather than something ongoing, and it wasn’t about constantly seeing each other in person. so, the idea that they have to be in the same city all the time doesn’t really apply here.
^ also emma provided a pretty vague description of everything so we don't even know where or when they could've hooked up to begin with lol...
but if we speculated that they hooked up in michigan, it's possible since sasha has likely spent time there, being best friends with emma, who lives and resides there and i know sasha visits especially during the summer which aligns with the off season. if this interaction happened when luke was in season, it's still very possible that they coordinated something to meet up when they found the right timing and scheduling. flying out girls or girls going out of their way for these guys is not out of the norm and is pretty common.
regardless… ive spent time lurking emma’s ig and following up on her page… sasha still is the only one that makes sense and adds up to who she was talking about.
^ edit: sasha is from michigan!!!!!
#j. hughes#j.hughes#new jersey devils#l. hughes#l.hughes#q. hughes#vancouver canucks#jack hughes#quinn hughes#luke hughes#q.hughes#allegedly
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Chapter Ten
WC: 6421 | R: Explicit | Ch 10/10 COMPLETE! | AO3
Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 <-
Steve let out a frustrated growl as he slid back behind the wheel of his car. The sun beat down on the dusty dashboard—keeping his car clean was low on his list of priorities lately—and the hot leather stung his hands as he gripped the steering wheel tight. Robin climbed into the passenger seat beside him, looking thoroughly unbothered by their continued failure.
They were already several days into their search for new jobs and the pickings were slim, to say the least. While Steve had been out of work since their ill-fated spring break, Robin had still been employed at Family Video right up until the moment Steve asked Keith for his old job back, and Keith had practically thrown him out the door.
Robin quit on the spot, and told Keith to go fuck himself.
Honestly, it’d been glorious, and a long time coming. Still, Steve felt terrible about it, but Robin was heading off to college soon enough anyway, and by her own admission, ‘the look on that giant goober’s face was totally worth it.’
“It’s no use,” Steve sighed, violently shoving his keys into the ignition. “We’re gonna have to widen our search area. Which means, even if we do find something, we’ll have to commute. Then I’ll be spending even more money on gas. And when you figure we’ll be lucky to make minimum wage, is that… is that even worth it? God, this is such a disaster. I mean—”
“Dingus?” Robin asked, interrupting his well-earned spiral.
“What?”
“Breathe.”
“Right,” he exhaled, taking in another deep breath and blowing it out slow. “Sorry.”
Robin reached over the center console to pat his knee, her hand a warm and familiar comfort, grounding in a way he hadn’t known he needed. “You sounded like me for a second there and it was kinda freaking me out. You’ve been unemployed for months, what’s with the sudden bug up your butt about getting a job anyway?”
It wasn’t exactly sudden. He’d been feeling guilty for a while now about his new living situation. It had been one thing to skate by on his meager and rapidly dwindling savings when he was living under his parents roof. He’d only had to worry about food and gas back then after all, but now that he was living with Eddie and Wayne he desperately wanted to contribute to the bills he knew were piling up.
It’d been a month since he and Eddie had packed up his things on a whim and moved him into the Munson home while an unsuspecting Wayne was at work. The older man had barely batted an eye when he arrived in the morning and found the two of them in the trailer’s small kitchen together, making a big over-the-top breakfast for the three of them to share. Steve’s way of preemptively thanking Eddie’s uncle for not kicking him out.
Wayne had welcomed him with open arms, just as Eddie said he would, and he already felt happier and more at home in that cramped cozy trailer than he ever had in the nineteen years he’d spent living in the horror house that was his parent’s place. Not just because the only plaid he was subjected to now was the warm flannel of Wayne’s work shirts, or the fact that he and Eddie had worked their shit out either.
But because he felt like part of a real family for the first time since he was a little kid.
Steve sighed heavily, running a sweaty palm over his face. “I don’t want Wayne feeling like he has to support me too. It's not fair for me to put that kind of pressure on him when he’s already given me a place to stay. And it’s not like Eddie can go out and get a job—not here. He wanted to go back to selling but it wouldn’t be safe. I made him promise me not to, but I’m scared he’ll do it anyway if I don’t find some other way to make us money.”
Robin was quiet for a moment, then nodded, her steady hand still resting on his knee. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out. We always do.”
If only her optimism was contagious, maybe he could stop his stomach from tying itself into knots. Still, he smiled, kicking the car into gear and pulling back out onto the road.
“Where to next?” She asked, finally taking her hand back and settling into her seat.
Steve drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, still considering their very limited options. “That was the last help wanted listing. I just have to stop off at the realtor’s office to pick something up. Then, I guess, we can take a ride over to Clark County and try our luck there.”
“I can’t believe your parents sold your childhood home out from under you and yet you’re still willing to be their little errand boy,” Robin huffed with an audible eye roll.
It was a point she’d made at least a dozen times throughout the whole process with his parents and the house. He knew she was just mad on his behalf but it was beginning to become irritating. She wasn’t wrong, they were definitely using him, but after years of crap he was nearly free, why would he risk rocking the boat now?
“Trust me, this is for the best. The last thing I need is for dear old dad to come blowing into town, see me with Eddie, and freak out.”
Robin hummed, resting her head against the window as the downtown storefronts went by. “So I take it you haven't told them anything about where you’re living?”
As if they cared. Steve was pretty sure they were just relieved that he hadn’t asked to come and stay at their new house. That he wasn’t their problem anymore.
“Nope,” he said, a little more bitter sounding than he’d meant. “And they haven't asked.”
“Assholes,” Robin muttered.
Steve hummed his agreement, letting a comfortable silence settle between them. Because, really, what else was there to say? She was right. Total assholes.
The moment Steve opened the door to Hawkins Realty he was hit with the arctic blast of an overzealous air conditioner and the overwhelming smell of Pinesol. The office was empty, save for a lone receptionist painting her nails a bright, fire engine red. She hardly glanced up at him before handing over an envelope with his name scrawled on the front, like it was no big deal. Like she wasn’t about to change the entire trajectory of his future.
Ten. Thousand. Dollars.
He froze in the middle of the street, staring down at the check in his hand like it might self-destruct if he ever looked away. It didn’t feel real. As well off as his parents had been his whole life, Steve had never seen so much money in person. Technically, he still hadn’t, since all he was holding was a slip of paper and not stacks of green bills, but the feeling was the same.
It wasn’t millions. It wouldn’t replace a good job or solve all their problems, but it was life changing money. If he could convince Eddie and Wayne to let him spend it the way he wanted to, that is.
“So—what’s the story?” Robin asked the second he got back into the car, curiosity practically vibrating off of her in waves.
“I guess they got more for the house than they expected?” Steve said slowly, handing her the envelope. “Or maybe they just felt guilty for leaving me behind. Either way, um—”
Her eyes grew wide when she caught sight of the amount. “No. Way.”
He grinned, a giggle bubbling up from his throat. “Way!”
For a second her face lit up, happiness for him radiating from every pore. She looked like she was about to throw herself across the car and into his lap for a hug, but suddenly that look started to dim around the edges, her shoulders slumping as her smile faded. “You’re going to leave, aren't you?”
“Rob, I—”
She shook her head, rushing forward to grip his hand where it rested on the center console. “No, sorry. I-I get it. You have to get Eddie out of here.”
“Yeah, I think I do,” he whispered with a small nod, leaning in to rest his forehead against hers. “And with you going off to college soon, and the little shits not far behind, there’s really nothing keeping me here anymore.”
She squeezed his hand a little tighter, breath hitching softly. “I guess I just assumed you’d always be here, and that I’d get to see you anytime I came home, but… we’re all doing what we can to move on. There's no reason you shouldn’t too. A-and It’s not like we’ll never see each other again.”
“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”
“Do you promise we’ll talk on the phone every day?” She asked, pulling away to look up at him with a wobbly lip.
Of course they would, there was no world where he and Robin could go more than twenty four hours without speaking to each other, but he hated to see her look sad. He’d had enough of the heavy.
He shot her a teasing grimace, sucking air through his teeth. “Every day?”
“Promise—me,” she growled, sounding about as aggressive as a miniature poodle.
“I dunno,” he hedged, mostly just to whisk her up some more.
She punched him in the shoulder. Hard.
“Ow! Jesus!” He shouted. “Eddie hasn’t even agreed to any of this yet, y’know.”
She scoffed. “Oh, please. When has he ever been able to say no to you?”
Was she serious?
Steve swallowed a laugh, shooting her flat look and a single raised eyebrow.
“Okay, jeez, poor choice of words,” she mumbled. “But, you know what I mean. He loves you. Of course he’ll agree to run away with you and live happily ever after.”
Along with the money came a change of plans for the day. After a quick stop at the bank to make the single largest deposit he’d ever made, Steve dropped Robin off at her house, putting their mission to find gainful employment aside for the day. If they really were both leaving Hawkins, and Steve even sooner than her if he had anything to say about it, there really was no point anymore.
Instead he spent the rest of his afternoon grocery shopping and practicing what he was going to say to convince Eddie and Wayne to go along with his plan.
It was probably a little over the top, the meal Steve had put together. Half in celebration, half as a peace offering. Or maybe bribe was the better word for it. Steak, potatoes, a salad with actual greens that he knew Eddie wasn’t going to touch, but it looked nice. All things they didn’t typically indulge in because it wasn’t in the budget.
He’d even stocked the fridge with name brand soda and ice cream for dessert.
The door to the trailer creaked open right on time. It’d been a bit of an adjustment for all of them when Wayne got his schedule changed from working nights to days, but it was clear from the lack of bags under his eyes that the older man was happier and healthier for it.
“What’s all this about, boys?”
Steve turned away from the stove and the mash he was stirring butter into to see Wayne eyeing the set table and the elaborate spread with a mix of delight and suspicion. He paused at the kitchen threshold to toe his work boots off before plopping down into his usual seat next to Eddie.
“Don’t look at me,” Eddie grumbled from where he’d been sat, pouting and sighing dramatically for the last hour while Steve prepped and cooked. “This is all his doing, and he won’t tell me a damn thing!”
Steve stifled a grin, turning the heat off on the pot of potatoes before setting it out with everything else. Without a word, he went for the fridge, cracking open two of the ice cold cans of Pepsi he’d stashed in there, and sliding one across the table to each of the Munsons, both looking more dubious than ever, and finally sat down to join them.
Wayne stared at him for a long moment but eventually shrugged, taking a long sip from his can and letting out a loud satisfied burp. “Well, I'd be worried you were about to tell me I was gonna be a grandpa before my time if it wasn’t, y’know, biologically impossible,” the older man said, tilting his head a little to add, “not for lack of trying, though.”
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mumbled, dropping his face into his hands.
From his neck to his ears Steve’s skin flushed with embarrassment, and he knew though there were no mirrors in sight, that his face was as red as the tomatoes he’d chopped for their salad.
“Thin walls,” Wayne leaned over to stage whisper in Steve’s direction, giving him a sympathetic, if patronizing, pat on the arm.
Eddie pushed his chair back roughly from the table to stand and slapped his hands down on its surface. “Well, this has been great, but I think I'm gonna go jump in the quarry now.”
Steve blinked up at him, caught for a long beat between hysterical laughter and the urge to yell at him for saying something like that in front of Wayne, joke or not, after everything they’d gone through. All embarrassment forgotten, he held his breath, waiting for the older man’s reaction.
“Too soon?” Eddie asked into the tense silence, which shattered an instant later as Wayne broke out in a knee-slapping guffaw, the same time Steve lost his own battle with a fit of giggles.
They settled eventually, after Steve insisted they eat before he shared his news, into the kind of quiet that goes hand in hand with any good meal. Forks tapping, knives scraping, and the occasional grunt of delicious approval. In no time, their plates were empty, and Steve’s heart was beating so hard he thought it might start rattling the silverware.
“Okay, sweetheart,” Eddie began, the first to speak once they’d all set their forks down. “Dinner was incredible, but will you please tell us what gives before I have another nervous breakdown?”
“Watch it,” Wayne warned, leaning back in his seat as though his stomach were too full to sit up anymore. He pulled a soft pack of Camels from his breast pocket, passing a cigarette to Eddie before taking one for himself and finally offering the pack to Steve with a raised eyebrow.
Steve took it gratefully, lighting up in hopes that the nicotine would settle his nerves.
It didn’t, but he pressed on anyway.
“So, um, as you know, my parents sold their house,” he began, feeling like a babbling idiot, but what else was new. “And today while I was out with Rob, I had to pick up some paperwork for them at the real estate office. Except, it wasn’t paperwork exactly, right? And I don’t know why they couldn’t just tell me—”
Eddie cut him off mid-ramble, lunging across the table to grab his hand. “Stevie, baby, love of my fucking life, whatever it is—please—spit it out. The suspense is literally killing me.”
Wayne shook his head. “Boy, I swear to christ…”
“It’s fine, Wayne,” Steve groaned, because Eddie was right. He was making this painful for no reason. He put them all out of their misery by pulling the deposit slip from the bank out of his pocket, and thrusting into Eddie’s hand.
“T-t-ten grand!” Eddie sputtered, the ash hanging from the end of his cigarette trembling dangerously close to falling on the table. “You’ve been sitting here on ten grand the whole time we were eating?!”
Steve squirmed under the weight of his gaze and gave a small nod, pulling his hands back to wipe his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. “I want to use it to move. Together, I mean. All of us.”
The room went very still, only the curling wisps of smoke coming off Wayne and Eddie’s cigarettes dared to move.
“That means you too, Wayne.”
“Yeah,” Wayne choked out, pausing to clear his throat. “Yeah, I got that, son.”
The older man eyed the slip of paper that still sat in Eddie’s hand, like it was a snake rearing to strike, then looked at Steve, his mouth pulling tight at the corners. “You sure ‘bout this?” Wayne asked.
“Completely,” Steve said without hesitation.
“It don’t sit right with me, letting you foot the bill for something like this.”
“I don’t see it that way.” Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Actually, you’d be doing me a favor. I want to build a new life for myself, for Eddie, and I want you in it. Besides, I don’t think Eddie would go for it otherwise and I'm kinda attached to him.”
Wayne huffed, a sharp sound that could have been a laugh, but Steve was pretty sure it was him fighting off tears. “You’re a good kid, Steve.”
Steve ducked his head, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Alright.” Wayne gave a single decisive nod. “I’ll come. I’d follow you boys into hell if I had to, but I’m paying you back. Every damn cent.”
“Deal,” Steve agreed quickly, though he knew he’d never take a dime from the man if he could help it.
That settled, they both turned back to Eddie, who hadn’t said a word since his initial outburst. He was still holding the deposit slip, staring at Steve with a strangely unreadable, distant expression.
“What do you think, Eddie? Are you ready to finally get out of here?”
Eddie blinked, his eyes coming into focus suddenly like he’d been miles away, but he recovered quickly, those dimples Steve loved so much making themselves known. “Yeah, fuck this place. Let’s do it!”
Later, after dinner had been cleared and Wayne was posted up in front of the TV—either to watch his shows or, more likely, fall asleep five minutes in and then grumble that his new recliner was too comfortable—Steve took Eddie’s hand and led him to their room.
All he wanted now was to crawl into bed and hold Eddie close, to drift away into fantasies of the future with the boy he loved wrapped in his arms.
They moved around each other in the small room like a well-rehearsed dance, constantly touching, shoulders brushing, fingers grazing over bare skin as they undressed for bed. Just because they could. Because here in the privacy of the trailer, of their room, they could be themselves in a way that was simply impossible in public in rural indiana. Even if Eddie hadn’t been persona non grata.
Steve settled on his side of the bed, propped on one elbow. He was about to ask if Wayne could handle living in a big city, some place with whole neighborhoods full of people like them, and a population large enough that they could be as anonymous as they liked—when he realized Eddie hadn’t joined him. He hovered near the end of the bed, nervous fingers toying with the frayed waistband of his shorts, his smile too thin to be real.
“Hey,” Steve said gently, softly patting the spot next to him in invitation. “You okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Eddie did finally crawl his way into bed, but didn’t nestle in close like he usually would. He left an unnatural sliver of space between them, one that felt miles wide.
“Baby?”
“Sorry, I’m just…” Eddie blew out a long breath, twirling a clump of knotted curls around his finger. “Nervous, I guess.”
“About moving?” Steve asked. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, and if he was honest, he’d been a little surprised at Eddie’s quick acceptance back in the kitchen.
“About all of it. Like—” Eddie’s eyes flicked toward him, and quickly away. “What if it’s not any better somewhere else? What if, wherever we go, people still hate me? What if I screw this up between us and then you’re stuck with me and Wayne, miles away from everything you’ve ever known?”
Steve scooted closer until their thighs touched, and reached up to cup Eddie’s cheek, gently coaxing him to meet his eyes. “You won’t screw it up,”
“You can’t know that.”
Steve didn’t rush to argue. They’d been here before and he knew this was only Eddie’s doubts talking. That voice that lived in the back of his mind, always trying to twist things and make him think the worst of himself.
Instead, Steve just leaned in and touched their foreheads together. “You don’t have to be perfect, Ed. You just have to be here.”
Eddie let out a slow breath, his eyes fluttering shut. “I’m trying.”
“I know,” Steve whispered, his nose brushing lightly over Eddie's. He smiled softly at the truth of those words and the memory of how far they’d come. “And you’re doing so well, baby. I’m so proud of you, you know that?”
Eddie nodded, finally opening his eyes, and leaned in to capture Steve’s mouth in a tender kiss. It was soft at first, gentle, loving, but deepened quickly. Eddie’s hand slipped to the back of his neck, fingers curling into the soft hair there, tugging just enough to draw a breathy sound from his throat.
Steve’s lips parted easily at the demand of Eddie’s tongue, arms looping around Eddie’s waist to pull him closer, until there was no more space left between them.
Their mouths moved in sync, unhurried but deliberate, a promise made with the press of lips and the slow slide of tongues. Whatever happened, they would face it together.
When they were inevitably forced to pull apart and catch their breath, Eddie’s voice came rough-edged and low, but noticeably lighter too.
“So, speaking of surprises, when are you going to tell me this secret plan you’ve got for the game next week?”
Steve grinned, already picturing it. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Eddie could feel the sudden warm weight of eyes on his back as he pulled his brand new, freshly screen-printed Hellfire Club shirt up over his head. It was the first time he’d worn one since his own had gotten torn to shreds in the Upside Down.
Not long ago, a passing thought of that night would have threatened to send him spiraling, triggered that hollowed-out ache behind his ribs. But by some miracle of time and effort and healing, he had managed to come to some sense of peace with it—mostly.
And not to get too love conquers all about it, but he was pretty sure having Steve in his life, learning to trust, learning to believe he was worth being loved in a way he’d never dreamed, had a lot to do with it too.
The presence behind him came closer, the scent of Steve’s shampoo filling his nose as a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist from behind.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, sighing as he sank into his boyfriend's touch. “Are you finally ready for me?”
Steve held him tighter in response, his mouth ghosting over the shell of Eddie’s ear as he ground his already half-hard cock against his ass. “I’m always ready for you.”
“Such a fucking tease,” Eddie groaned, resisting the overwhelming urge to press back against him. Instead, he turned in Steve’s hold, throwing his arms around warm bare shoulders.
God bless tank tops.
“You know I meant for the game, Stevie.”
“I know,” Steve whispered on an exhale, tucking his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. His lips brushed the skin there, soft and slow. “I’m pretty sure Dustin would come looking for us if we postponed to fuck right now anyway.”
A whine crawled up Eddie’s throat, his mind consumed with thoughts of Steve bending him over their bed, yanking his pants down, and bullying his way inside with little to no prep. Taking what he wanted with that perfect blend of care and control that drove Eddie wild.
Fuck, he wanted that.
“Later?” He asked, a desperate lilt to his voice.
“Promise,” Steve said, pressing one last kiss just below his ear. “As soon as we’re done playing Druids and Dorks, I’ll put you right through that mattress, baby.”
Eddie’s entire body shivered in anticipation. So much so, that it took a moment for all of Steve’s words to sink in.
“Wait. Did you just say—we?”
The sun was low enough in the sky to create a false twilight as they traipsed through the thick trees that lined the back end of the trailer park, leaves and twigs rustling underfoot with each step they took.
The place wasn’t called Forest Hills for nothing.
If it had been anyone else leading Eddie through the woods without a word of explanation, he might have been nervous, suspicious even. But this was Steve. After everything they’d been through, he trusted him wholeheartedly. More even than he trusted himself.
And wasn’t that wild?
Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn't going to badger the shit out of him with questions the whole time.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the concern for my physical health, sweetheart,” Eddie said, picking his way over a thick tangle of roots. “But couldn't we take a mysterious woodland stroll some other time? Like, after the game?”
Steve snorted a laugh, but remained infuriatingly silent.
And they called Eddie dramatic.
Eddie’s mouth pinched, narrowing eyes sliding to his left, boring into the side of his boyfriend’s head. “Won’t the kids be at the trailer any minute?”
A warm hand sliding against the small of his back was all the reply he got, lightly guiding him as they stepped over a fallen tree trunk together.
He ground his teeth and barely resisted the urge to stomp his feet as he whirled on the spot to face the current bane of his existence. Who he loved. Who thought he was so fucking funny.
“Seriously, Steve. Where are we—” He began to demand, only for Steve’s palm to land squarely on his mouth, effectively cutting him off. Steve met his eyes for a long moment, tilting his own head to the side with an ear cocked as if he were listening for some far off sound.
That’s when Eddie heard it.
Distant music playing low on a shitty radio. Shuffling feet. The metallic crinkle of soda cans. The general sounds of people having a good time close by. And the very distinct sound of Robin’s wheezy, snorting laughter.
Eddie felt his eyes go wide, his stomach performing somersaults as his mind raced through the implications.
Steve grinned, finally pulling his hand away, replacing it with his lips in a quick peck. “I hope you’re up for improvising,” he said, eyes alight as he pulled back. “There’s a few more players than you were expecting.”
A few more players turned out to be a bit of an understatement.
They walked hand in hand together for only a few more yards before coming to the edge of a clearing, glittering lights in the trees already visible through the leaves and branches as Steve dropped his hand, letting him be the first to step through a gap in the brush.
It was the D&D setup of anyone’s dreams.
The trees had been strung with white christmas lights, criss-crossing overhead in gentle loops. A long grand table made up of three wide picnic tables pushed together sat in the center of the space, covered in a rich black cloth and adorned with candles of every shape and size. Their flickering flames reflected off of the dice scattered along the table, glinting like little gemstones.
And at the head of the table, perched in theatrical glory, sat his throne. The battered but beautiful prop he’d commandeered from the drama department for every meeting of Hellfire since its inception, with its carved wood frame and dusty red velvet upholstery.
“Holy shit,” Eddie whispered in disbelief.
Everyone was there. Apart from Hopper and Mrs. Byers, the entire Upside Down crew was present and accounted for. All with a completed character sheet in front of them, and all looking genuinely excited to be there. Even Max, who would have sooner played Barbies with Holly Wheeler than sit in on a D&D campaign, let alone participate in one, was seated at the table.
How had Steve pulled this off without him knowing? Where had all this stuff even come from? Where were they hiding all their cars? So many questions came to mind, including what all the spare empty chairs were for, but what ultimately came out of his mouth was—
“How the hell did you manage to get my throne out of the school?!”
Before Steve could answer, a voice from the other side of the trees did it for him.
“We might have helped with that part.”
Eddie could hardly believe his ears. He turned, stunned.
Like ghosts from another life, Gareth stood just beyond the tree line, a frown on his face and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Jeff and Grant flanked him on either side, looking equal parts hopeful and unsure.
“Gare?”
It’d only really been—what—five or six months since the last time Eddie’d seen the guys? You’d have thought it was ten years by the way he froze, staring, before shaking himself out of it and rushing over to greet them. As much as he wanted to throw his arms around his best friends—former best friends?—he stopped himself short, nerves settling in to tie his guts in a knot.
He wondered suddenly if the band was still together. If Corroded Coffin had gone on to make music without him.
If they played better without him.
If they were glad that he’d disappeared.
A frown tugged at his lips, his heart sinking as he recognized the poison in his own thoughts. He wasn’t completely immune to it, but he knew better now than to give in to those darker thoughts without a fight. These were his friends. They cared about him. They wouldn’t have been there otherwise.
He risked a quick glance back at Steve for reassurance and found it right away in his boyfriend's nearly painfully fond smile. It was more than enough to give him the boost he needed to face Gareth, and his thin lipped expression.
“I can’t believe you guys are here.”
Grant shot a warm smile over the top of Gareth’s head. Jeff did the same, even parting his lips to speak, only to be cut off by Gareth backhanding him across the chest. And Eddie was torn between laughing, and swelling with pride at his best friend, who had stepped into his protective role with such effortless gusto.
Gareth, though, remained stoic, giving a small, dismissive shrug. “It’s not every day Steve Harrington shows up at your door asking for a favor.”
“Yeah,” Eddie breathed, breaking into a lopsided grin as he pictured the bizarre scene. “He’s persuasive when he wants to be.”
Gareth’s bushy eyebrows drew together as he studied Eddie’s face, his expression softening by degrees, while his eyes lingered on a spot near Eddie’s mouth. “What happened to you, man?”
Oh—right.
Unconsciously, Eddie raised a hand to cover his cheek, the grin slipping away in an instant. He’d almost forgotten about that particular bite scar. It’d faded into light pink lines that were more often than not camouflaged by stubble, but still pulled on his lip funny when he smiled too wide.
“I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say at first.
“What exactly are you sorry for, hmm?”
That he’d dragged them all down with him by association. Gotten them branded satanists and devil worshippers because he’d been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. That he couldn’t even tell them what really happened to Chrissy, to him, to Hawkins.
Eddie shuffled his feet, fighting off a renewed sense of unease. “Everything, I guess. I heard about Jason and his goon squad roughing you guys up when they were looking for me.”
“Okay, yeah, that sucked a big fat one,” Gareth scoffed, but his attitude had lost its edge. “That’s not what we’re pissed off about though.”
“I–I don’t…” Eddie stuttered, chewing on his bottom lip. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
Gareth rolled his eyes. “No shit, dumbass.”
“Then what—”
“You disappeared, Eddie. And I don’t mean when you went into hiding or whatever before the earthquake, I mean after. Dude, we thought you were dead till Jeff’s mom ran into Wayne at the gas station. Had to find out you were in the hospital from Henderson, who was a little cagey about the details, might I add.”
Jeff bobbed his head, chiming in. “Your whole crew acts like they’re in the NSA. What’s up with that?”
“Not now, Jeff,” Gareth hissed.
“Sorry.”
“It’s been months, Eddie,” Gareth went on, unrelenting. “Why didn’t you call us?”
Eddie swallowed thickly, looking down. “I was kinda working through some shit? And I guess… I guess I didn’t think you’d want me around anymore?”
The words felt pathetic, even to his own ears, but it was the only truth his messed up brain had let him see for a while. And after that, it just felt like too much time had passed to fix things.
Gareth’s mouth dropped open and he stared at Eddie for a long moment before finally his facade broke, his lips curling into a small smile as he shook his head. “Well, I’ll say it again. You’re a fucking dumbass. But you’re our dumbass.”
Eddie surged forward, wrapping his arms around Gareth, and felt Grant and Jeff close in behind him, making him the center of a full-grown group hug.
“God, I missed you guys.”
“We missed you too, asshole,” Grant replied, voice muffled by Eddie’s hair.
Eddie's heart felt like it was mending in real time, fuller than it had ever been in his life.
The four eventually made their way to the long table, finding their seats amid familiar laughter and new chatter. Eddie dropped onto his throne like a king returning to court—though he’d always considered himself more of a jester than a monarch—preening when Steve took the chair beside him and knocked their knees together under the table. The air was clear and joyful, and Eddie soaked in every bit of it, basking in the noise, the mess, the life of it all.
He let them all go on for a minute longer, then cleared his throat, loud and demanding.
“Quiet!”
The silence was instant.
In the hush that fell over the clearing, he stood, rising to his full height to lean over his battered and worn DM screen, fingers steepled in front of him as he shared a heavy gaze with each person assembled around the table in turn. Steve grinned when their eyes met, and as much as Eddie wanted to share in that warmth with his own smile he kept his face like stone. This was his domain. He had a story to tell—a show to put on, and a crop of new players to seduce.
“The Village of Briar Glen is quiet, unnervingly so considering the late summer air. It would usually be bustling with activity, with villagers young and old working tirelessly to prepare for the coming winter. But of course, that is precisely why you are all here. Your party heard tell of a creature stalking the woods surrounding the small hamlet, and terrorizing its citizens. Livestock has been taken, whole chicken coops destroyed, and no less than two hunters have gone out to track the beast, never to be seen again.”
He raised an eyebrow, a sly smile tugging at his lips as he paused for effect, relishing the tense silence as his audience waited with bated breath for him to continue.
He still had it.
“You see a shape moving through the dark with a low rumbling growl. The moon is hiding most of her light behind the clouds but there is just enough for you to make out the tufts of fur raised along its back, and feathers ruffling near its neck.”
“Fur and feathers?” Steve asked, mouth screwed up in confusion.
Eddie raised both arms above his head, dropping his voice down into a deep snarl. “It lets out an ear piercing scream.”
Mike groaned. “Seriously? An Owlbear? That’s baby shit, Eddie.”
“Can it Wheeler,” Eddie snapped, cracking his knuckles. He leaned back, spreading his arms wide. “So, my ragtag bunch of adventurers, what do you do?”
The campaign unfolded like many before it—chaotic, messy, joyful. Dice clattered across the table as players argued, laughed, shouted over each other, and threw themselves into the roles of their characters with surprising intensity. The world outside their little bubble disappearing behind a tapestry of friendship and fun.
Hours passed in a blink, and of course, the party triumphed. Eddie never doubted them. The owlbear fell with a final dramatic blow, and the table erupted into cheers and applause. Fists were raised, leftover snacks flung into the air, a sweet victory shared by all.
Eddie finally let himself relax, leaning into Steve, resting his head against the other boy’s shoulder as the celebration continued to echo in the clearing all around them. Their friends, both new and old, still riding the high of their victory over the rampaging owlbear that had terrorized the outskirts of a small town.
And, for a moment, he felt nothing but perfect contentment.
He knew it wouldn’t always be like this. Life had sharp edges. He’d still battle with his depression sometimes. There’d be bad days, days when even getting out of bed would feel like an impossible feat. He and Steve would argue, lose their patience, hurt each other, and sometimes say things they didn’t mean.
But none of that scared him the way it used to.
Because deep down he knew that no matter what life threw at them, they’d always find their way back to this. To each other. Not just in grand, perfect ways like this, but in small, steady ones too. In shared laughter and pain, in acceptance and fierce forgiveness. In choosing, again and again, to love each other through it all.
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@bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog @goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1
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#Complete!#steddie fanfic#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington/eddie munson#steddie fic
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Headcanon about the Drake brothers (Tim Drake and Drake Winston + Cassandra Cain)
I feel like these first two joke a lot about Tim liking literally anyone who looks at him. As if every time they arrive anywhere and someone looks at Tim for more than 5 seconds, they are automatically in love with Tim.
So Drake often makes comments like, "Did you see that? He couldn't take his eyes off you, you fascinate him!" or "did you see how she didn't look at anyone else when you were around, she was in love with you"
For Drake, Tim's best suitor or the most persistent is Lonnie Machin, So it doesn't matter if the encounter was in a sewer and they were sprayed with something weird or outside of Wayne, Drake will analyze a little to realize that this guy spent at least 3 weeks building his plan to have his "private encounter" with Tim, which boils down to the fact that he still doesn't have anyone (in a romantic way) So Drake takes it upon himself to explain to Tim that Lonnie is too busy being his to look at anyone else.
Sometimes Cassandra is also a victim of this treatment, so if the three of them go out together it is a constant joke about who liked whom and why. So it's a little bit of "Cass, she adores you, there's no way she'll look at anyone else." or "you have the most beautiful eyes of all, of course he couldn't concentrate on anything else"
Although he is also a protective brother, so it stops being funny when someone actually tries something with his younger siblings (even if Cass is 3 years older than him)
Continuing with their outings, whether they go out just 2 of them or all three together, they usually explain that they are twins (or triplets as the case may be)
Triplets who have different parents and were born on different dates, Cass is three years older and is only Tim's twin, and Drake and Tim are only 2 months apart, but they are still twins.
In the Bat-fam loves the idea, or at least they like the dynamics because Cass and Tim are indisputably twins and both Drakes adopted each other as twins and are very complementary to each other.
_________________
I love those 3 and they are so cute to me, I can imagine them as little ones wearing duck hats or dragon-themed clothes for Drake and Tim and a unicorn for Cass, because her favorite bathrobe is a huge purple unicorn

And in case you didn't know, sometimes unicorns lived with dragons and were very compatible ♡
#lonnie machin#tim drake#red robin#batman#dc comics#bruce wayne#drake winston#dc robin#Drake Winston as Robin#tim drake as robin#cassandra cain#batgirl#batfam#Headcanon#This is a headcanon#not the absolute truth#it can change in everyone's head.
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The Love Playlist - Part 1
As Got7 have just comeback could I request something with Jaebeom please? I haven't fully recovered from the excitment of yesterday
i know the comeback was a while ago, but i hope you're still excited for this @lostfictionalbee !! thank you so much for your request!
Genre: AU, Fluff, Slice of Life
Pairing: Jaebeom x You (Female!Reader)
Warnings: None
Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,496
Growing up, nobody ever told you just how exhausting and overwhelming it was being an adult. Your parents had certainly made it look easy; in fact, they'd made it look so easy that your dream as a child had been to grow up and get an office job. The idea of dressing in business casual clothes, taking the train into the city, having your own desk, typing away on a laptop, getting coffee at a quaint cafe just around the corner -- it had all just held so much appeal for you in your younger years. Your most played make-believe game had been one with you as the receptionist for a very high-powered law firm. You'd typed away at an old keyboard, taken calls on a disconnected phone, and filed scribbled-on papers in an empty drawer of the coffee table in your living room.
It had taken almost no time at all after going off to university, majoring in business administration, graduating with honors, and getting a job in HR to realize that your childhood dreams had been highly glamorized and romanticized -- to say the least.
Yes, you enjoyed building a business casual wardrobe and becoming a regular at a locally-owned coffee shop next to your office and making friends with your co-workers.
But the actual work part of it was draining, stressful, and taxing on your mental and emotional health.
Yes, you now made adult money and could afford to buy all the things you'd wanted as a kid.
But after paying for rent, utilities, and groceries every month, it seemed like you hadn't even received a paycheck at all! Where did all your money go?! And how had your parents managed to not only buy a house but also raise children?! It must've helped to have two incomes, but still. If they'd ever been worried about finances, they'd done a great job of hiding it because you'd never known.
When you'd brought all of your woes up to them shortly after admitting to yourself that being an adult wasn't nearly as fun as you'd thought it would be, your mom had answered with a lilting laugh and said, "Of course, it's not fun. It's work. That's why you have to make your own fun."
You'd spent every day since trying to do just that.
After some trial and error (and a bit too much extra money down the drain), you found comfort in a YouTube channel called "Soul Tracks." It was almost like a radio show; the host would go live just about every night to create custom playlists based on listener requests. While you weren't musically gifted in any way, shape, or form, you'd always loved listening to it. Music had the ability to soothe and relax your frayed mind in a way nothing else really could. One night, the Soul Tracks live stream had popped up in your recommended feed, and something about it had drawn you to click on it.
You'd felt a connection to the show almost instantly, and from then on, you tuned in every chance you got -- which was basically every single night.
A few months after becoming a regular listener, you'd even sent in a message to the host -- someone you only knew as DefSoul -- to request your own custom playlist.
Hi DefSoul 😊
I've been listening to Soul Tracks for a few months now, and really, I have to start off by thanking you for sharing your time and talents with us. Your show is so calming to me, and I don't think I've missed an episode since I found your channel.
But the reason I'm writing in is the same reason everyone else writes in: I'm looking for a playlist.
I'm kind of new to this 'adult' thing -- I graduated from university a while ago, and have been working an HR job for a few years, but I still feel like I just became a grown-up. To be honest, I still don't actually feel like a grown-up, but apparently I am.
Anyway. As weird as it sounds, my dream growing up was to work in an office building, and now that I've achieved that dream... it kind of sucks. Not at all what I thought it would be! I guess I'm just feeling lost. Hopeless. Unsure of what life is really all about and who I really am.
Gee, is that all? 😂
You've proven yourself to be a musical genius, so I know whatever you come up with will solve all of my life problems and answer all of my life questions. (Or at least keep me entertained for months on end, which is just as good.)
Feel free to read this on your show -- I'm crossing my fingers that I'm not the only "adult" out there who feels this way.
Thanks 💜
-[Your Username]
Since his livestreams regularly had thousands of viewers, you told yourself that sending in a request was a long shot. He probably got so many messages each day and only had time to read a handful of them. It was very unlikely yours would be one of them.
Lo and behold, just a few days later, you heard the soothing, deep voice you'd come to know so well reading your words for all to hear -- well, for all twelve thousand people who were currently listening.
"I can assure you, you're not the only adult who feels this way," DefSoul said after finishing your letter. "I certainly feel that way. Not even sometimes, but most of the time. And I don't know about the whole 'musical genius' thing, but I put together a playlist that I think -- I hope -- will help you settle into those feelings and make a little peace with them."
Your heart was thudding inside your chest as you listened, and as the first song on the playlist -- your playlist!! The playlist DefSoul had made especially for you!! -- began to play, a voice in the back of your head wondered if this is exactly what your mom had meant about finding ways to make your own fun. You felt as giddy as a child right now, so surely it was!
But the giddiness you felt as you'd listened to your personal playlist had been nothing when, the very next day, you'd received an email reply from DefSoul himself.
Hi Y/UN--
I'm hoping you heard that I read your message during my show last night. You mentioned that you hadn't missed an episode since you found my channel, so I think there is a good chance you did. In case you didn't, though, I'm including a link to the replay.
Thanks for sending in your request, and a huge thanks for listening and supporting my channel. It's hard to put into words how much it means to have people actually enjoy what I do. I know I'm lucky to have found my passion and get to do that for a living -- I hope you can find that, too, if that's what you want.
In all honesty, I don't usually reply to messages because I figure that creating a playlist is reply enough. But there was just something about your message that stuck with me. Sure, I've turned my passion into a career, but that doesn't mean I know the answer to all of life's questions. I still feel lost and meaningless, like you said. I really connected with your words, and your playlist feels pretty special to me. (I hope that's not weird.)
I guess I just wanted to reach out and assure you that you're not alone, not by far. And if you ever need someone to talk to and ponder what life is all about, I'm here.
-DefSoul
You couldn't quite believe this was happening. And, worst of all, you had no one to talk to about this! Your closest friends and family knew about your favorite daily livestream, but they didn't really know. Nobody else listened to it or truly understood how much it meant to you.
The fact that you had no one to tell this to didn't stop you from writing him back, though. And you did so almost immediately.
Hi!!!! 💜
OMG I'm sorry, but I have to be a fangirl for a second. (To steal your own words: I hope that's not weird.) I just love your show so much, and I was already so thrilled when you made a playlist for me. But getting your reply just now is definitely going to be the highlight of my month! Thank you so so so much for taking the time to read my message, put together a playlist for me, AND write me back.
All right, now that I've gotten that out of my system!
It really is comforting to know that someone who does what you do -- has a passion, shares it with other people, can earn a living from it, and seems to have it all together -- feels lost just like I do. I mean, it's not comforting because if YOU also feel lost, then is there any hope that we ever won't feel lost? But it's comforting simply because it means I'm not alone. And one thing about me (that you didn't ask for) is that I've never felt lonely in my entire life, but I sure am scared of being alone.
Does that make any sense?
Well, even if it doesn't, that's how I feel.
Is it okay if I completely pivot and ask a somewhat personal question? You can totally ignore this -- in fact, if it's too much, and you don't feel comfortable, just don't reply to me at all, and I will get the message! But how did music become your passion? How did you start Soul Tracks? As someone whose only ever thought about growing up and working in an office, I'm incredibly intrigued to hear about how people who do really cool things started their journey to do the really cool things.
Again, you don't have to answer that if you don't want. Just call it me pondering what life is all about.
-Y/UN
As soon as you clicked 'Send,' you regretted asking such a personal question. DefSoul had told you in no uncertain terms that he was here if you ever needed someone to talk to, but... still. There was a reason he used a pseudonym from his show. Maybe divulging more about that part of his life was taking it one step too far.
To your surprise, an email arrived in your inbox just a couple of hours later:
Y/UN --
Just wanted to let you know I saw your reply, and I'll get back to you soon. I want to take some time to answer your question thoughtfully (but truthfully, I promise). I didn't want you to think I was blowing you off. Honestly, it may take a few days.
-DefSoul
Of course, you hit 'reply' immediately.
Take your time! I completely understand. 💜
And then you had to take a seat and take a breath. Was this really happening? Were you becoming internet pen pals with the host of your favorite livestreaming music channel?
True to his word, DefSoul sent you another email a few days later. You'd been on tenterhooks for those few days -- barely able to concentrate on work and looking forward to Soul Tracks more than usual -- but as soon as you opened his email, you found the wait had been worth it. You were immediately faced with a wall of text, and it almost took your breath away that he'd felt comfortable opening up to you this much.
You read his email slowly and thoroughly... and then you read it again three more times, for good measure.
Long story short: DefSoul had worked in a music store as a teenager because he'd always loved listening to music, singing, writing songs, and he'd taught himself to play the guitar from a very young age. When it came time to start making his own money, he'd applied to his favorite music store in less than a heartbeat. The owner had been a former local musician who'd retired to become a shopkeeper. During the several years DefSoul had worked there, the owner (who had remained unnamed all throughout the email) had instilled into him the idea that music is not just music. It's so much more. It's a language that can connect people of any age, race, gender, and more. Anyone. It's a way to speak to people you've never met. It's about creating moments that resonate with people. And because the owner believed this so wholeheartedly, he developed a habit of creating mixtapes for customers.
You can see where this is going, right?
The first time DefSoul had ever followed in his boss/mentor's footsteps had been when one of his close friends went through a breakup. He hadn't known any other way to comfort her, so he'd made her a playlist with songs that could help her both release her sadness and heal from it.
After DefSoul went to University and, eventually, stopped working at the music store, he found himself in much the same position as yours currently: lost. He'd wanted to become a professional musician, but his career hadn't taken off, and he'd needed some way to pay the bills. After working a desk job for just a couple of months, he'd received a message from that friend out of the blue.
She had told him that she wasn't sure if she'd ever thanked him properly for the playlist he'd made for her. She'd been scrolling through her music library earlier that day, seen it, and the thought to reach out to him about it hadn't left her since. Apparently, the songs had been a huge help to her, and she'd been able to move on more quickly than she'd ever thought.
An idea had popped up in DefSoul's head almost immediately, and that very night, he had created his Soul Tracks channel.
The rest, as they say, is history.
At the very end of his email, he'd written this:
I know this was long, so I'm sorry if it was way more than you ever wanted to know. I've never actually told the whole story to anyone before. I think taking the time to write it all out was more for my sake than anything, so thank you for letting me do that.
Obviously, the invitation to spill all the details of your story is always open. I'm all ears.
-DefSoul
P.S. At risk of being too forward, I think maybe we've become pen pals? I'm up for it if you are.
But if you're not, pretend I never said that.
You knew that it would take a while to reply -- just as it had taken him a few days. But you knew at least one thing you wanted to say to him.
First things first: Hi, Pen Pal 😊
Part 2
#jaebeom#jaebeom fanfic#jaebeom au#jaebeom fluff#got7#got7 fanfic#got7 au#got7 fluff#kpop#kpop fanfic#kpop au#kpop fluff#lim jaebeom#got7 jayb
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How can Molly's death be considered a major mistake? It's the crux of the entire campaign.
so I think about this a lot, because you're right, and it really comes down to like...a lot of factors in how people interact with fiction, and some stuff I feel about fandom.
The short answer is that Molly is some people's favorite character, and they really wanted to watch him for 141 episodes and not just 26, and they didn't get to, and so it's valid to feel sad about that. But I think what personally grinds my gears is the idea that it's a mistake and because this is a Fan Favorite character he SHOULD have come back. Setting aside the fact that he had both his fans and his detractors from the start and a lot of people (myself included) who found him irritating didn't say much for a good chunk of C2 because, well, he was dead, this isn't a fucking competitive reality show. You don't get to vote on your phones to decide who wins a resurrection.
I think the longer answer is that there is a certain type of person in fandom, born of a certain type of person in social media communities, who just...is not willing or interested in considering not just that their experiences, preferences, and philosophy are not universal, but also that they are not objectively best and correct and that everyone who disagrees is wrong. It's often really common in, though not exclusive to, people who have particularly limited experiences - young (like, teenager/early 20s), people who haven't lived in a diverse area or in multiple different areas, people who for whatever reason do not get out much - which both makes sense (haven't been exposed to a ton of different perspectives irl) but also means that you get people who, for all they may talk about global politics, kind of unconsciously seem to act as though everyone they interact with online is a variant of someone from the same 3000 person town in the United States in which they've spent all 21 years of their life. ANYWAY getting back to the main point I feel like Molly attracted a lot of that kind of person, who just...doesn't get that while Molly is, to them, a deeply validating expression of gender identity, for many people he is "guy you meet at your friend's birthday party in a two-bedroom 6 floor walk up and within 5 seconds he has pissed you off so profoundly with his overfamiliarity that you go into the kitchen and mainline as much vanilla vodka as possible to not stab this guy with a secondhand knife that says "CHEESE!" on it even though you hate vanilla vodka and it's summer in NYC and you're on the 6th floor in a small apartment with too many people so it's approximately 117 degrees Fahrenheit in this kitchen and the vodka isn't much cooler, and you succeed in this goal, and then after sending your friend who couldn't make it because they were at a family thing that weekend a picture of a rat on the tracks of the 3 train with a caption "this u?" at 1:54 in the morning you're like "so this guy Molly was there" and they're like "oh my god I met him at Cameron's last party, he SUCKS" and you're like "I KNOW". Like a lot of people just do not get that Molly was very popular with their circle, and also a lot of people either were neutral-to-not-feeling-it. This is before we get into the post-death idealization of who he was that takes him from "irritating but I think he'd have grown on me in some ways eventually had he lived" to "horrible and insufferable fake-ass bitch."
And then we get to the true impasse: the idea that something that does not fulfill every single one of your personal wishes might still be a great story.
I'm certainly not perfect, and there's things I thought I wanted for the end of C2 that I didn't get, and there's some things I do wish we'd have gotten to see (or that we'd have done in C3), but I like to think that I try to remain at least partially open to the possibilities. I like to think that my enjoyment of a story isn't contingent on whether one single character survives, even if they are my favorite (and I say this as someone whose favorite ASOIAF character was immediately Ned Stark, a statement that should surprise no one who follows me) nor that the story precisely reaffirms my existing worldview. I want stories to tell me something new and interesting that wouldn't come from my own head, and I want them to sell me on it. I think that a lot of people lost the thread of the importance of representation, namely, they forgot that while it's great to see people like you in a story, you should also be trying to see people not like you and perspectives that aren't yours. I am extremely defensive of my and other people's right to say "I didn't like this story and here is why" without someone being like "Give it a chance! Here's why I think it's good" but at the same time, there is a difference between "I really wish Molly had stayed alive and I don't like that he died," and "everything that happened after he died was A Mistake because it wasn't what I Wanted, and someone should fix this." Like that's what toddlers do. That's not an adult way of interacting with narrative.
So those people don't even get to the point of "the entire campaign is deeply influenced by the loss of Molly; that is what binds the rest of the Nein together and makes them what they are; the fact that Lucien wears the face of a departed friend is crucial to the entire final arc comprising about 20% of the campaign; and the fact that he does not come back, but someone new, with new chances and new choices to make does is emblematic of a campaign about people who find that they cannot undo their pasts, but neither are they trapped or damned by them." They're stuck at "guy I liked died and I'm throwing a tantrum 6 years later."
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#CHAOSDAY #ChaosWednesday #ChaosDayismyfavoritedayoftheweek #livingforthechaos #thisislongsobeprepared #hopefullyyouwontfallasleep #thanksforcomingtomytedtalk
I have been a silent follower for the majority of the shit show that is this fandom until recently. Now I like to pop in here and spread some chaos, tell some stories, and give my (probably un wanted) opinions. I do try and be mindful & demure by keeping all of that to this blog. 👏🏻
The wastelands of TT & X are currently in flames right now..so I don’t venture in those areas very often.. When I do decide to gear up and walk into the wastelands, I prefer to do it quietly.. I hide behind the trees, the bushes, the burning buildings, whatever the F I can find to hide behind, and I lurk.. I listen to what all is being discussed.. 🫣👀
There is a particular discussion that many in the fandom have, that always gives me pause, & makes me ponder… So I’m going to ponder out loud with all of you because it’s #CHAOSDAY & I just know you all want to hear what I’ve got to say, right? 🙃
So.. I always hear folks say, “Real love takes time.”I’m sorry, what? 🤡 I mean I guess if we’re talking about Penelope and Colin, sure. They were actual best friends. You know? They grew up with one another. They lived across the street from one another. They saw each other every day or at least close to it.. you know.. unless Colin was out on yet another one of his whoring travels..I mean world travels. 🥴 But this isn’t Pen & Colin that these folks are discussing..This is Nic & Luke. The same people that play the characters. Apparently now these folks have morphed these real life people into the characters they play.. they don’t realize they are separate from one another. Nic and Luke may play Pen and Colin.. but that doesn’t make them Pen and Colin. I think that’s where a lot of the issue in this fandom lies.. they can’t separate the actor from the character.
Now, y’all ready for my opinion on this topic? The whole “love takes time thing?” Yeah? No? Eh. You’re getting it anyway. So buckle up.
Nic & Luke have known one another, worked closely with one another, and been friends now for over 5 years. I know Luke spent the majority of that time with Jade but even still… if Luke and Nic wanted to be together.. they would be. It’s literally just that simple. Regardless of who the other is dating. If you want something, if you’re meant to be with someone, if you love someone that much, you’d make a way to be with one another. Guess what? That hasn’t happened. Wanna know why? Because it isn’t how they feel. Do I know this for fact? Obviously no I don’t..but I do know people who’ve been in similar situations.. who were with the wrong person, pushing the other away, only for the bond to be too much… for the love that they feel for one another to make it impossible to be happy with anyone else.. if you truly love someone.. you’d be together. No matter the circumstances. If you’re destined for one another, you’ll fight every day to find a way to make it possible.
A perfect example of a celebrity couple to refer to: Josh Dallas & Ginnifer Goodwin (Charming & Snow from OUAT)
These two were both in relationships during the start of filming of OUAT. Josh said the first time he and Ginnifer kissed.. he knew.. immediately. He knew that she was it for him. She felt the same way. They admitted to fighting it for several months.. but eventually they couldn’t fight it anymore. They ended their relationships & chose one another. They are now married with two children.. and obviously still very much in love.
I feel like if there was in sort of love that is more than friendship between Nic & Luke.. that they’d know it at this point. Luke was with Jade for years and clearly he was smitten and totally in love with that girl. I remember his posts, her posts, they were quite obviously in love with one another. Obviously things didn’t work out but that doesn’t erase the love that was clearly there between the two. He spent some time single during S3 filming.. and if we are to assume Nic was single too.. then I believe if there were something more than friendship there..they would have went for it.. but they didn’t.. instead they finished filming & Luke started dating.. and eventually met Antonia.. and people acting as if she isn’t important to him is INSANE to me.. it’s obvious that she means something to him.. what that is? I have no clue. It isn’t my business.. but the fact that she’s been in the picture and a part of his life since July 2023 is enough for me to know that she does mean something to him.. and not a “situationship.” *my gah I hate that word* He takes her with him on his travels, he brought her to the premieres, he vacations with her, she’s accepted within his family & friends.. that alone tells me she is something serious to him. Not posting her on SM means nothing.. especially when he’s stated multiple times that his SM is for business now & not anything more.. and after Jade was literally bullied off the internet.. I can’t blame him for wanting to protect her. Him not posting her, her not posting him means nothing. The fact that they are seen with one another, traveling together, have been papped together multiple times, and that she’s been around for over a year should be enough for people to understand that she is important to him.
It’s obvious to me that him and Nic are good friends, they have amazing chemistry, and I’ll even admit I was caught up with the PT and fell for their sweet looks, soft touches, and flirty comments.. I think it’s safe to say we all did to a degree. June 13th should have been a wake up call for everyone. It sure as hell was for me. I came back down to reality when I saw that man walk out with his girlfriend. I was a bit butt hurt. I did some pouting for longer than I’d like to admit.. but then I got up, brushed myself off, and got over it.. because guess what? I’m an adult. I’ve got shit to do. Places to be. People to see. And crotch goblins who don’t give a flying flip if momma is feeling a little butt hurt…because they need their 15th snack for the day.. & they aren’t going to wait around while I sulk. Most importantly though.. these people don’t know me nor do they care? Why should I care so much about who they spent their time with? The reality of all of this is.. these are real people.. with real lives.. with real people in their lives that they care for.. and there is ALWAYS more to a story than what we’re seeing.. especially people in the public eye. We only see what they choose for us to see.. and we as a fandom need to respect that.
If Luke and Nic wanted to be together, they’ve had 5 plus years to make it happen. They haven’t. They both have someone in their lives now who obviously are very important to each of them. I think instead of being unhappy for them.. the shippers need to take a step back, maybe go off of SM for a few weeks, go outside and enjoy the sunshine & GRASS, meet up with some friends, have a drink or five, read a book, listen to some music, dance in the rain, find a hobby, and enjoy their lives.. because life is too short to be all up in arms over those two people from that Bridgerton show not being together in real life.
As Penelope said, “I could die tomorrow.”
No one is promised tomorrow. What a shame it would be, wasting your time being angry and upset because the narrative you created in your mind didn’t come true.. that you missed an opportunity to spend a day playing at the park with your kids, or enjoying a date with your SO, because you’re so caught up fighting online with people you don’t know about people you don’t know. Wouldn’t that be a shame? Live in the moment. Enjoy your life. Don’t let SM and the bullshit that comes with fandoms destroy your happiness and dictate your day.
Nicola and Luke gave us an amazing performance as Polin. They were truly beautiful and they are so loved by the Bridgerton community. They deserve so much praise for that. They deserve respect as individuals. They owe you nothing more than what they give you onscreen. You should wish them well in their future endeavors, send them support & love, and respect whomever they choose to love and spend their lives with. They truly deserve that much. 💖
Okay, I think I’m done now. 😅
That is all. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk. 😉
I hope you feel lighter with that off your chest.
#chaosday
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Cabin in the Woods - Chapter 5
Synopsis: You're dog sitting for Shoko and Utahime, you ask their neighbour Toji for help one evening, will your meeting be the start of something more?
Content: MDNI (for eventual smut), Fluff, Flirting, Slow Burn
Characters: Toji Fushiguro, Reader Insert, Cameos from Utahime, Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru
Pairings: Toji x Reader
_______________________________
The drive in Toji’s Jeep was comfortable, he had the heat to a good setting as it was going into the Fall season and it was starting to get cold outside. The restaurant was about 20 minutes away from either of your homes, so you leaned your head back on the headrest and listened to the soft music playing from what seemed to be the local radio station in the truck. You spent some of the time looking out the window, occasionally stealing glances at Toji who’s eyes were on the road.
You two sat in comfortable silence for a while, seemingly not needing to fill it with small talk, but you did want to talk to him about his day regardless.
“How did your fire wood cutting go? Did you get a lot done?” You asked, making conversation.
“Yeah I did, I’m always going at it most of the winter because some of the older folks around here need it for heating, and can’t really get out to get it themselves.” Toji replied.
“That’s nice that you do that for them, it’s very sweet.” You said touching his arm momentarily.
“Eh, I like to help people out when I can.” He glanced towards you.
“Obviously.” You said cheekily, pointing to the fact that helping you is what landed you in his vehicle at this very moment.
He smiled at that, looking to want to say something else, but he just continued paying attention to the road.
You arrived at the restaurant and it didn’t seem too busy, but it looked nice. A smaller building with yellow-ish white lights wrapping around the underside of the roof. It looked like there was a patio, but there was no furniture on it as it was probably not used for the colder months.
Toji held the door open for you and you both walked in. The place was very cute, a lot of fairy lights in mason jars on the table centerpieces, cherry blossom tree art on the walls and other general Japanese esthetics throughout the place. It was lovely.
The host made their way to you both and Toji stated that he had a reservation for “Fushiguro”. You know after all this time you hadn’t really even thought to ask his full name, but you silently rolled it off your tongue sounding it out, it fit with his first name well.
The host led you to your table and after sharing the specials with you, left you to wait for your server.
“You made a reservation?” You asked inquisitively. Looking at the many open tables that surrounded you.
“Yeah, it probably wasn’t necessary, but this area gets a little tourist–y at this time of year and this place can fill up pretty quick, I didn't want to take any chances.” He smiled looking up at you from the menu.
“Good thinking, nice to know you’re a planner.” You chuckled slightly.
“Yeah, I try to be on top of things for the most part, but if I’m being honest I do play things by ear a lot of the time, but that’s just between you and I.” He winked at you.
“My lips are sealed.” You replied, motioning a lock and key on your lips.
The server came and took your order, along with your meals you both ordered one of the house cocktails that looked just as delicious as the food on the menu.
You leaned back into the booth smiling at Toji, he was quite handsome in the dim light (and lets be real even in the bright light).
He began to speak.” Do you have any family that you're close to, or that live close to you at least?”
“Yeah, I actually lived with my dads in a suburb area a little outside of the city for most of my childhood. Not the nicest area, but pretty quaint. They still live there.” You paused, correcting yourself. “Well, one of my dads still lives there, um, well, my other dad passed away last year unfortunately.” You quickly took a sip of your water from the glass on the table to stop that emotional bubbling feeling that was starting to rise in your throat. You coughed slightly from drinking too quickly, but quickly set down your glass and placed your hands on the table politely.
Toji had a slight frown, but reached out and touched your hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dove right into the family subject, I forgot how complicated that could be.” Toji looked remorseful.
“No, it’s fine, I just feel silly that I said they both still lived there, it’s been a bit and I still keep forgetting. I’m good. We’re not too far away from each other so I actually get to visit with him pretty often, we have a good relationship. Though he’s a bit of a hippy, he’s very spiritual, which makes me roll my eyes sometimes, but he has a good heart and is always supportive of me.” You said smiling.
“Can’t really ask for more than that, can you? Yeah my parents don’t really understand the whole “living in the woods” thing. They’re very upper echelon and business class people. They came to visit me a few times and everytime time they were in shock at some part of the place. My dad asked me if I was having a mental episode when he found out I used well water.” Toji laughed. “But generally they’re okay, just very strictly city folk.”
“That’s funny, I think my dad would love living out here, communing with nature and being away from the noise pollution and actual pollution. It’s his bag for sure.” You replied.
The food came, but the conversation didn’t slow down. You discussed your interests, sharing that you liked video games, what books you liked. You talked about your other friends, your job, and the fact that you broke your arm in three places when you were a kid. You had believed you were spiderman and took a leap of faith off of the top of a midsize tree in your backyard. You were trying to web fly to the swingset and promptly hit the ground harder than you ever had before. After a chaotic ambulance ride and a few x-rays later, you were the proud owner of a cast around your left arm.
“You know my dad actually still has it in storage, he kept it after they took it off as a memento that he pulls out to embarrass me every once in a while.” You laughed.
Toji shared his love of the outdoors (obviously), and his fondness of gardening. He also likes to read but mostly Stephen King. He admittedly only plays old school video games like Castlevania and Zelda on his Nintendo 64, but did put out a challenge to you to whoop you at Mario Kart whenever you wanted. He likes board games (especially Wingspan) and he mentioned a few friends out here that he hangs out with, specifically a guy named Shiu. He was an old business partner that comes up for months at a time when he needs to escape the “corporate bullshit” as he put it.
Before long the meal was done and you were settling up the bill. You offered to split it but Toji would hear none of it, waving you away while he handed his card to the waiter. You acquiesced his request and began to put on your coat. He followed suit and you stepped out the front door of the restaurant back to the chill of the parking lot.
“I don’t know if you’re feeling up to it, but I was wanting to take you to a nice lookout spot in the area, I thought maybe we’d grab a coffee and go look at the view and the stars since the sky is clear tonight.” Toji asked you with a kindness in his eyes.
“That sounds really nice, I’d love to, especially the coffee part.” You both laugh, very excited for the offer because you didn’t want this night to end.
“Great… after you pretty girl.” He said smiling seeing the red blush on your cheeks after saying that complimentary line to you.
You walked towards his vehicle and he opened the door for you to get in, and after he settled in the driver's seat, you were off.
After picking up your respective coffees, the drive to the lookout wasn’t too long, you and Toji just enjoyed each other's presences while getting there. When you arrived the lookout was actually well lit with standing lights around the edges of the embankment. It looked like maybe this was a well trafficked area during the day, and even now there were a few cars spattered on the long stretch of land that looked out to the horizon.
It was beautiful, the stars were so bright up here, and you could see the glow of the city in the short distance which glittered slightly. Even in the darkness, the outline of the trees and the mountains pressed up against the light of the moon was captivating. You stood out in front of Toji’s Jeep, him standing closely next to you, both of you just marveling at the sight.
“Thank you for bringing me here Toji, it’s really lovely.” You said leaning closer into him.
He looked down at you with a slight smile. “Anytime. I like to get out here to clear my head sometimes, I imagine you might appreciate the same.” He said this and took you pressing into him as a cue to put his arm around your shoulders. “Is this okay?” He asked.
“Yeah, that’s actually really nice.” You settled into his side, putting your loose hand onto the one that sat on the edge of your shoulder.
You sat there talking for a long time, the flow of conversation never faltering even when silence was the chosen subject. After a while, you both realized it was getting late and should probably head back, reluctantly you separated from each other and settled back into your seats in the Jeep. While driving back, Toji moved his hand to rest on your upper thigh, sending butterflies into your stomach. You placed your hand atop his and left it there for the duration of the drive home.
You arrived back at Shoko and Utahime’s place and gave him a smile before you both stepped out of the vehicle and made your way up to the front door. You stood there for a moment looking at each other.
“I had a really great time, Toji. Thanks so much for asking me out tonight. It was really nice spending time with you.” You said with genuine sincerity
“I had a great time too, can’t think of anything else that would’ve been better. Thanks for letting me show you the lookout, I was worried you might think it was weird to just stand there looking out at a skyline, but I’m glad you liked it.”
“We should go again sometime soon.” You said hopefully.
“I’d like that.” He said while suddenly pushing a stray piece of hair that had fallen onto your face behind your ear.
Your breath hitched at that, and you decided to be brave in this moment.
“Toji…would you mind if I kissed you?” You asked looking up deeply into his emerald eyes.
“I wouldn’t mind at all.” He said quietly, stepping even closer to you.
That being the only permission you needed, you placed one hand on the side of his neck to pull him into your lips. He did the same, wrapping his large hand softly but possessively around the back of your neck and pressing you to his. The kiss was soft but passionate, your mouths both slightly open moving against each other rhythmically. You hummed in satisfaction when his tongue grazed your lower lip, and you decided to do the same to him. He let out a low throat noise and then you both pulled away from the kiss, a little breathless, and your lipstick a little smudged.
“Sorry, I might have gotten a little carried away. You taste really good.” He said his hand still softly on the back of your neck.
“It’s alright, I kind of did too, you’re a really good kisser.” You said while your face was still close enough to his.
You seriously contemplated inviting him inside, but the more logical part of you thought that wasn’t a great idea. You actually liked this guy and didn’t want to rush anything simply because you hadn’t had physical affection for quite some time. You pulled back from him a little more.
“I had fun tonight, Toji. I really want to do this again, and maybe pick up from here next time?”
Toji smiled, seemingly relieved that you were the one that decided to be level headed about the next move. “Yeah, I think that’s a great idea. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Looking forward to it.” You said with a large grin.
Toji leaned down and kissed your cheek and you both said goodnight. He waited for you to go inside before making his way to his truck and heading home with the biggest smile he’s worn in a long time.
And did you squeal while doing the most excited happy dance inside the foyer as he drove out of sight? Maybe you did.
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